The Pelennor Fields, Osgiliath, The Northern Fiefdoms (Free RP)

[Rillewen]

@Arnyn

Tirdinen Duinion Raedor with Lt Arnyn
and Rangers Vorondil & Sarina
September 3rd
Harlond - At the Chandlery

Duinion was trying to work out the puzzle in his head, while trying to sort out all the possible trap ideas he could think of. Only, most of the sort of traps he tended to focus on were in the forest, involving the use of trees and nature. He knew how to make or adapt plenty of these to work in a building, but it was difficult to plan a trap without knowing where to even put it. That was like a crucial element in deciding what sort of trap to build, after all.

When she asked about someone using an ax, he frowned thoughtfully. "Perhaps." Of course, that depended a lot on how determined a person was. "If they didn't want to mess up the display table and ruin the cover for the secret entrance, then they wouldn't use an ax.. but.. hm." He decided to think about that a bit longer, and was going to turn his focus on figuring out the other entrance when Arnyn called his attention to something. He glanced at her, then followed where she was pointing. He stared, then put a hand over his face and let out a little laugh. "Ah.. of course." Lowering his hand, he shook his head slightly. "I completely forgot about that. Idhrenel used to tell me about how the tide would rise up and wash things up onto the beach.." He murmured, then smiled faintly at some memory that had called to mind.

Staring across the water, he examined the wall where the very top of a hole was being gradually revealed. "It looks like it's gone down at least an inch since we first came upon this.. harbor." He mentioned. He looked at the boats, noticing that they, too, seemed to be sitting lower in the water. He considered that for a moment. "I'll bet," he glanced toward the stairs at the end of the dock, then grabbed the nearest lantern and cautiously crouched at the edge to try and see down into the water. "Yes.. I think there's a second level of this dock, directly below us. Probably so they can load or unload the boats regardless of how high or low the water is."

He held onto the lantern as he looked out across at the entrance to the tunnel, feeling a slight chill go down his back. "I wonder.." He thought about that for a moment. So much depended on knowing when the corsairs would be returning. And he doubted they'd be able to get any of their hostages to talk. If any of them even understood their language. "If I knew what was on the other side of that tunnel.." He frowned thoughtfully. He did not want to get into one of those boats, and he most definitely did not want to go into that tunnel. But he would like to know what was on the other side. Were their enemies waiting for them there? Or had they gone elsewhere, to return later? He tried to imagine.. if a shipful of enemies was waiting on the other side, then.. going down the tunnel could mean they'd be drifting right into an ambush. On the other hand.. if they just stood here waiting, they might find themselves swarmed with enemies before too long.

"I think we should hide the captives, or lock them up or something." He told Arnyn. "And.. maybe get out of sight, just in case." He suggested, unsure if she would have thought of the same thing or not. "At least.. once the tunnel seems clear to allow passage. For now," He frowned, estimating. "Seems like she once said the tide could take about six hours to get from high to low, or vice versa.. so we may have time to work out the details." He hesitated. "There's a couple of ideas that occur to me, but I don't know what would be best."

As Duinion presented his various thoughts and ideas, they discussed how each one might work or why they would not, and so forth. After much debate, and even a bit of amusing confusion between them, they finally managed to agree on a plan. Now, there was something else to consider. As the question was brought up of who would come to check on the trap, Duinion had two suggestions. "They have guards here in Harlond, right? They could include a brief check of this place on their patrol routes. Have them come by at least once per shift, maybe. Then if they find that the trap has been triggered, they can send a messenger to alert us, with orders to simply stand guard until we arrive." He shrugged.

"Another thought.." He hesitated briefly. "There is a certain ranger of the Northern lands who has.. very little to do with his time, and who will likely be a bit.. put out.. that he was not invited on this little.. excursion." He pointed out. "And he has just as much.. if not more.. reason as we have, to want to make sure these guys are caught. He could check in on it periodically, if we asked. Might make him feel more useful."

[Arnyn]

@Rillewen

Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen
With Tirdinen Duinion Raedor & Rangers Vorondil and Sarina
Harlond, September 3rd

"Let's just get it over with now," she suggested, not wanting to return to this place later in the day, night or the next day, really. At Duinion's suggested about the guards from Harlond, she nodded thoughtfully. She liked that idea. That way it wouldn't require that much additional attention from her or from the ranger unit. It could be delegated. One corrupt guard in Minas Tirith did not lead the Lieutenant to lose faith in the guards as a whole. Their adversaries might have corrupted one here and there, but there was no way even a good size of the men and women still taking up arms in Gondor's protection would be successfully turned or blackmailed. She wouldn't believe that. Couldn't believe that.

On their way to rig the trap, the Lieutenant raised an eyebrow at the Tirdinen. "A certain Northern ranger." Mild amusement made the right corner of her mouth lift upward. "Unalmis' uncle? I do not know him. Nor does he fall in any way under my command or jurisdiction. If you join him on these 'check-ups', though, Duinion, then we can talk." She left it at that.

They set up the trap on the stairway. Vorondil helped them move the bodies of the Halsad men to the middle of the stairs. All of them - including those Duinion and Arnyn had incapacited in the cave below, for they had, all of them, ended their lives in a similar fashion as their companions in the chandlery above, as Duinion and Arnyn had been discussing the way forward. Only those not dressed in red and black, only those not bearing that jackal tattoo, were still breathing. Sarina waited with them, upstairs.

Anyone coming either up or down those stairs would spring the trap just before stumbling onto (or over) the bodies. The mechanism at the top of the stairs, with the table, would be disabled - blocking their way up to the chandlery. And at the bottom of the stairs, Vorondil, Duinion and Arnyn set up an intricate but in the end simple way for one of the gates of the cages they'd found to block anyone on the stairs in. It took them several hours. But they were able to work in peace. Sarina, up top with the still living and breathing prisoners, probably had it rougher than the other three. Even though the other three were tiring their muscles, Sarina needed endless patience. Especially when she ran out of gags. She said as much when the others came out of the gaping hole.

As Arnyn narrowed her eyes against the light - which seemed so bright after spending so long on the stairway and close to the stairway in the cave, setting up the trap - Sarina breathed out: "Thank the Valar. Tell me we can leave now. And dump these guys with the guards or something. I'm sick of their foulness..."

[Rillewen]

@Arnyn

Tirdinen Duinion Raedor with Lt Arnyn
and Rangers Vorondil & Sarina
September 3rd
Harlond - At the Chandlery

Duinion smiled slightly as the lieutenant picked up so easily on who he meant. He gave a little nod to confirm she was right, then listened as she replied. She did not know him. Duinion was set to point out that he does know him, and that he could certainly be trusted, but the fact that she made him think about the fact that yes.. Duinion knew Dom quite well.. made him also realize that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea that she suggested that Duinion would go with Dom. The other was so dead set on seeing these Halsads brought down for good that, given the chance, he might just do something reckless or impulsive if he came across any of these guys on his own. Which was the very reason Duinion had felt it was a bad idea to let him know about the Halsad's involvement in Eryn's abduction.

"That sounds fair." He replied to her with a little nod. "I'll talk to him and see whether he would be interested in joining me. Perhaps we could ride out here one or twice a week, depending on how frequently you think we should come." He thought that having the Harlond guards check it would be good, for they could check in on it a couple of times a day, easily. But all they could do was check if the trap had been sprung, whereas Duinion could check on the trap itself, and make sure everything was still set and ready, and so forth. Which he most definitely would not be willing to do if he came out here all alone.

Soon, they got to work on the trap. It had taken a bit of brainstorming to decide the best way to go about making it. In the end, he was quite pleased with what they had come up with, even if the lieutenant had firmly rejected one of his suggestions.. which was a bit disappointing. He felt sure that Dom would've enjoyed his idea to string one of the corpses up on a cable so that when someone triggered the trap, the creepy corpse would come flying toward them. Although she hadn't permitted him to do that, Duinion consoled himself with imagining Dom's amusement when he told him about the idea, later.

As for the trap.. taking a door off one of the cages hadn't been too difficult, much to his surprise. And he had worried that it wouldn't be easy enough to conceal it against the ceiling of the cave, but once it was in place at the foot of the stairs, he stepped back and looked, and was pleased to see that a support beam and some stalactites kept it from being visible as one approached the stairs from the warehouse part. And, he remembered, there would likely be very dim light around the area, which would also help.

With Vorondil's assistance, Duinion did one last check that the tripwire would be sensitive enough to go off at the slightest bump. The cage door, now attached at the ceiling by the bottom of the stairway, swung down and was held into place by means of a sturdy rod that slid into place, so that anyone trapped on the stairs wouldn't be able to simply push the cage door open. After Vorondil undid the door, they set it back up. Then he carefully attached the string from the upstairs trap to the same tripwire, so that they would both be triggered at the same time. The bodies strewn about on the stair landing helped to conceal the string, and he had made sure that they were positioned in such a way that it would be extremely difficult to avoid setting off the trap, especially without knowing it was there.

Despite having to do all of this work in a dimly lit cave, and an even more dimly lit stairway.. Duinion had quite enjoyed the work of making the trap. Once they had decided on a plan and he knew exactly what he was going to do, making the trap had helped to keep his mind occupied so that he wasn't thinking so much about the cave and being underground. He focused on the trap, working out the little complications that arose, figuring out exactly how to adjust this or that thing to make the trap work like it should, and so forth.

Even so.. he was beyond relieved to finally be done and come back up to the surface. As Duinion stepped clear of the stairway's secret entrance to allow Vorondil to join them, he closed his eyes and drew in a long, slow breath. Fresh air, finally. He had nearly forgotten how nice that felt, already. He already felt a little more relaxed as he enjoyed the natural light of the sun coming in through the window, and a soft sea breeze drifting in from outside. He opened his eyes after a moment, once he felt some of the lingering anxiety melting away.

He glanced toward Sarina, then to the lieutenant. "What are we doing with them, actually?" He wondered, while he moved to help Vorondil position the display cabinet carefully, so that it would look like the smugglers had left it. There were six of them, so it wasn't likely that the rangers would be bringing them back to the city with them as prisoners, as that would require getting more horses or something. But they had wanted to question them, so he wasn't sure what the plan was. For himself, at the moment, he was torn between wanting to get answers, and wanting to go home and be with Eryn. And also have a chat with Dom, first chance he got.

[Arnyn]

@Rillewen

Lieutenant Arnyn Dealedwen
With Tirdinen Duinion Raedor & Rangers Vorondil and Sarina
Harlond, September 3rd

Arnyn took note of Sarina's drawn expression, Duinion's utter relief in being topside again, and Vorondil's calm. Right then. "We tie them together in threes," she half-said, half-ordered, and Vorondil and Sarina immediately set to doing just that. "We will bring them to the guardhouse, here. The guard will transport them to the city dungeons in due course."

While Sarina and Vorondil were still managing the prisoners, the Lieutenant quietly stepped up next to Duinion. "You did well," she told him, her words audible to no other but them. She did not elaborate, nor clarify. When he looked over at her, she held his eyes for a moment, nodded and then stepped to the front door.

After removing the barricade they'd set up earlier, to avoid Sarina and Vorondil getting swamped by potential adversaries while Duinion and Arnyn were below, the rangers and their prisoners stepped through. When they reached the Harlond guard headquarters, Arnyn briefly spoke with the ranking officer on site. Upon her return, guards had come with her to take the prisoners with them to holding cells.
Her expression unreadable, the Lieutenant gave them all their new orders. "Duinion, Sarina - you are dismissed. No more duties for the rest of the day. Vorondil - you and I are staying just a bit longer. We will try and assist the guard in the prisoners' interrogation before heading back to the City ourselves."

Once Sarina and Duinion had left, Vorondil and Arnyn returned back inside. Alas, the captured crewmen either could not speak or pretended not to speak more than a few words and sentences in the common tongue - let alone in Sindarin. They yielded nothing that the guards or rangers could understand. And a few hours later, the two Hyandaner were on the way back to the city, none the wiser than they had been when they had left the chandlery...

[Rillewen]

@Arnyn

Tirdinen Duinion Raedor with Lt Arnyn
and Rangers Vorondil & Sarina
September 3rd
Harlond - Going home

The lieutenant's quiet words to him surprised Duinion slightly. He turned his gaze toward her and gave a faint smile. "I told you I could get around my problems," He mentioned, just as softly, with a little shrug. He wasn't sure if that was his exact wording from that day when she'd first come out to talk to him at the dairy farm, but it was the general idea that he had been trying to convey. But whatever. He watched her move for the door to begin taking charge of matters once more.

Soon enough, they had arrived at the guard headquarters. Duinion remained vigilant as he watched the prisoners while the lieutenant was inside. When she returned and the guards took custody of the men, he was glad to see them rendered into a higher level of security than the ropes and gags which they'd had to use. However, the lieutenant's words, dismissing both he and Sarina, caught him by surprise. He turned and glanced at her, almost wanting to argue and point out that they still hadn't gotten any answers from the men. And he most definitely wanted to know what had happened to the man who had grabbed Eryn.

But then, he remembered, so did she. And she would know, better than him, how to question such men. That man had surely gotten far away by now, and as much as Duinion would love to be able to track him down (and maybe break both his legs and arms) and get a few answers out of him.. there was very little chance of locating him that way, since it seemed clear that he had taken a ship. If any information could be gotten out of these men, then Arnyn would get it. Meanwhile, Duinion could go and rejoin Eryn and the rest of his family. He was itching to get back to her as fast as he could, after all. Therefore, he gave a small nod and smile of gratitude to the lieutenant. And then, as an afterthought, gave a fist-to-heart salute. "Thank you, lieutenant." He said softly, before turning to join Sarina in retrieving the horses.

He caught up to Sarina at the stable. They rode back together, all the way up to the sixth level. Just before parting ways, Duinion stopped her, and thanked her for her help today. After the two rangers had parted ways, he made straight toward the house where the ranger left in charge of the headquarters told him he could find Aggie and the others. He was beyond anxious to see Eryn again and he also figured she, and everyone else, would be quite worried about him after Eryn would've told them he'd gone on with the lieutenant.

He had been giving it a lot of thought during the ride through the Pelennor, and realized that there was no real guarantee that the kidnapper/murderer had actually gotten on a ship and sailed away. So, unless he heard otherwise from the lieutenant after she had questioned the men, he might ought to assume that the fellow could have even come to the dairy farm. He could even be waiting for them. So, he decided that after he had ensured that Eryn was safe with Aggie, Cailon, and the others, he would go back and check the property just to make sure. But first.. he was absolutely starving, since he hadn't eaten anything since that pastry early this morning, and he wasn't about to go anywhere until he had had supper with his family. Whatever they decided to do after that.. it could wait.

(The End)

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

Duinion Raedor
Night of Sept 3rd (technically, the 4th now)
Daisy Dairy farm - Simultaneous with this RP

It had been a really long day. Duinion had forgotten when the last time was that he slept. But it could wait. He had more important things to do, first. Ever since Eryn had told him about some of the things her abductor had said, Duinion had been thinking, worrying, and planning. Maybe the man had only been trying to frighten her, or maybe not. It had taken a while before Eryn finally fell asleep, and then Duinion had crept off, silently, entrusting his family to the safety that ought to come from being in the second-highest circle of the city. Within the ranger's areas. Of course, recent events over the summer had proven how easily an enemy could infiltrate the sixth circle, even into the heart of the ranger's headquarters and barracks. And while that threat was gone now, and supposedly a unique, one-of-a-kind threat... it certainly hadn't helped in convincing him that anyone was better off living within the city's circles than without.

Still, for tonight, he couldn't imagine any way for the abductor to know where Eryn or any of the others were passing the night. So, they should be safe there. Duinion tried to put himself in the other man's place, which was a little bit difficult since he didn't know his entire purpose or plan. But, the man had told Eryn he was coming back for her, though he had not given any particular time frame. He had made threats about killing or harming her father and other family members in their sleep, and it was clear that he knew exactly where they lived. Which meant, there was a very real possibility that the man might return to the cave tonight and find her gone. He could also learn that his intended trap at the chandlery had backfired. While Duinion hoped that the trap he, Arnyn, and Vorondil had left within the underground stairway might capture that guy or his allies, the concerned father also didn't want to leave too much to chance.

Therefore, he had come out to the farm tonight simply to watch and see what might happen. If the kidnapper did decide to come after Duinion or any of the other family members tonight, he wouldn't find anyone sleeping, but he would find himself at the wrong end of Duinion's bow. Duinion hadn't mention any of his plan to Aggie or Cailon, because he didn't want them worrying, and he hadn't mentioned anything to Eryn because he didn't want her begging to join him. He'd rather she remained in that house that Arnyn had so graciously allowed them to use for the night, where she would, hopefully, be safe. Even if something unfavorable happened out here, tonight, she would be far from here.


The pastures were quiet. On his way back to the city earlier, Duinion had requested of Sarina that they make a slight detour, stopping by the farm to gather the cows into the barn and milk them for the evening, before continuing up to join his family. Since they were Aggie and Cailon's livelihood, he knew they would want to ensure the cows were safe and protected while they were away for the night, and he didn't want any of them coming out here to do those tasks. He had been grateful to Sarina for her assistance in both tasks, and although he'd had to show her how to milk a cow, it had made the job go much quicker to have two working at it, rather than one.

It felt strange to see the house standing there, dark and silent. Even though, normally at this hour, it would be like that anyway, it just felt odd to him, knowing that no one was (or should be) inside. The ranger kept his movements to the deepest shadows as much as possible, moving with practiced stealth across the yard so familiar to him. Each step was as silent as he could make it. The breeze rustling the grasses blended with the sounds of his passing through the same grass, helping to camouflage his movements as he progressed toward a spot where he could crouch, unseen behind a cluster of bushes stretching along a fence bordering the nearest pasture. From there, he could watch the majority of the yard, and it made an excellent 'blind', as one might use when hunting.

He hadn't even made it halfway there when he sensed, more than heard, another person nearby. Duinion froze and breathed out slowly, turning his head slowly this way and that, trying to pinpoint the source of this intruder. His pulse was racing despite his outwardly calm appearance. So, the abductor had come after all? Quite daring! And foolish. Duinion's brow furrowed as he wondered what he planned to do. And where was he? Just then, he caught a glimpse of a fleeting shadow that moved when there was no breeze. The shadowy figure of a man, moving as stealthily as Duinion himself, was creeping along the outside of the house. The figure was briefly illuminated as the moon peeked out from behind clouds for a brief second, then hid itself behind a thicker cluster of clouds. The scene below was plunged into deeper darkness for a few moments, causing Duinion to stare harder, trying to spot the intruder.

Where was he? Had he gotten into the house by now? Duinion held still, watching intently, holding his breath. When the moon emerged again from its veil, the figure was nowhere in sight. But Duinion knew he had not imagined it. He must have gone around the far corner of the house. Creeping closer, the Tirdinen kept his steps as soft as possible. Stalking his 'prey'. He reached the far corner and paused, softly clicking an arrow onto his string, though he didn't draw the bow yet. Peeking around the corner, he saw... nothing. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Duinion waited a moment, listening, glancing around. Then, it occurred to him suddenly that the man seemed to be heading toward the campsite where Duinion had been sleeping, ever since his injury. After taking a glance on either side, he made sure that no one was lurking, waiting to spring out and surprise him, then he set off toward the cold, dark campsite.

When he arrived, moments later, he could just make out the shape of the shadowy figure, snooping around his abandoned campsite. Near his shelter. Someone thinking to kill a sleeping ranger, perhaps? Duinion's eyes narrowed as he inched nearer, moving with slow, deliberate steps that helped keep his boots as silent as possible in the dew-damp grass. He stopped once he had reached the far edge of the clearing. He couldn't tell whether the figure had any weapons in hand, but he wasn't willing to take a chance on it. He raised his bow, arrow ready to fire, and finally spoke out, in a quiet, calm, yet commanding tone; "Hands up! And keep them there, unless you want an arrow in the ribs." Even as he spoke, Duinion braced himself for anything. Who knows.. the stranger could suddenly whirl around and hurl a knife toward him, or something of the sort.

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen @Lantaelen **

Carpe Diem – Part 38



Dolûzor and Arkadhur, unloading Iole and Cali
at the Chandlery, Harlond. On the last day of Autumn Festival, last year.

“He waits, .. until they’re in enemy waters not too far off Belfalas. Then grabs up one of the oar slaves, same as he is meant to be guarding. Cuts the wretch’s tongue clear out of his head,” Dolûzor traced his own unsheathed dirk in a show of demonstration, some inches safe from slicing his own writhing tongue, for the dramatics of his tale. And frowned, as his colleague did not even turn from observing out of the window. “That’s a rather delicate undertaking of course. And this guy, he’s no Keket Halsad. The Tark is coughing out blood and panicking and choking .. the artery was severed, see ? There’s an art to taking a man’s tongue, where you might take his life as well, if you aren’t careful. Not that it matters really. The Tark is good as dead, regardless. He’s weak from years of hard labour, rowing under the lash. So Netor … he now bends that floundering piece of flesh forward, slashes the name Dimaethor into the man’s already haggard, naked, back, with his sharp steel blade. Puts out his eyes .. and lets him die there in his chains .. while all the others watch.”

The story was not new. It altered in fact with every telling. Save for the taking of the tongue, the carving of the name, and the reason that it all supposedly happened at all.


“This guy, Netor, he’s used to hauling bodies around, after all. He empties up the shackles and flings the dead Tark, limp-like, over one of his great shoulders. Heaves it aboard deck, and casts it over. On the tide that carries it to Belfalas. It’s a message, see, for Dimaethor. From Keket Halsad himself. And this is not the first time .. dozens, they say, he dispatched with in this way, littering the waters where the Swan Knight will learn of what’s left of the dead .. bloated and broken, all bearing up on Belfalasian shores.***


"Captain Uhta though, my Captain, ” There was a sense of pride that could not be hid in Dolûzor’s voice. The Corsair leaned back in his seat, legs splayed, and he eyed the abandoned game of solitaire before him, before aiming the dirk toward the large wooden crate serving as a table. It bounced off the wood and clattered on the floor. “He don’t take with that sort of nonsense. Not the needless killing of resources. Not on his ship.” The storyteller hooked his weapon ungracefully with one booted foot, as he sought to retrieve it without forsaking his seat. “Way I heard it, he found out that Netor was dispatching with his property, for the sake of Keket’s grudge. And he plunged a marlin spike into one of the ears of his brother's minion. Taught him good and proper, that the only one to listen to out on the ‘Spook’ is the Captain himself. Not the ’Puppeteer’, back playing with his dolls on dry land.”


The verbiose Corsair made a grab at his blade, raising it back up in hand off the floor, only to fling it at the cratetable again. This time the steel made good purchase on it’s mark, and quivered in place like a tree, upright but trembling in a tumultuous gale. For the story required a conclusion. The moral, if you like, for the immoral audience.

“Didn’t kill him,” Dolûzor confided, openly. “The spike broke his mind of course, half caved in the etches of old Netor’s head, on that side. Bumbling idiot now. Captain gave him back to Keket, since he was no more use to anybody since. They say he feeds the pitiful mess .. once a week, with a bucket of tongues, human tongues. And that’s all he ever gives him. I’d hate to see what has become of him, by now .. ”


What further rumour the man might have exploited, would have to wait. His colleague here, one of Dev’s men, had observed the likes of what they both ought to have been on watch for. Somebody approaching, on the street below. Uhta’s man chanced a look himself, to glimpse what they’d be facing and then headed downstairs. They required only one for a welcoming committee after all, that the intruder would need to be aware of. For as long as the crew were still loading up downstairs, nobody, whether their arrival was an innocent chance or rather more suspicious something else .. might be any the wiser for simply stepping inside the shop.

---

Arkadhur had taken a casual pace through the streets of Harlond. His goal having been to escape Minas Tirith, now that he knew Ademar was aware of his presence there, had been managed. The rest of it, Shamara, the dead Lowendir’s probably-also-dead-by-now wife … not to mention a little left over baggage in some of the barrels .. still required managing. Thankfully he was not a man who left things to chance. He had allies and investments each stowed away in their relative safety, for use on a rainy day. He did not like to be surprised.

So when he sprang down from the cart, he took the knife which might end up to be enough, from under the seat where he had secreted it. Jamming it in the back of his belt, behind him, the tall man approached the door of the closed-down shop front, seemingly unarmed. And commenced with heaving each of the five barrels off the back of the open cart. Three of those barrels were easy work. The final two .. less so. But he was not unused to heaving dead weights about. He had done such work for Keket long enough. It was not far to bear the weight anyway. And though tempting to roll the cargo, far more easily, .. the wood was old and who knew if it would hold against such treatment. The racket which might be inspired also, even involuntarily .. was of course also a factor in his begrudging decision. Checking the lids of the two latest, and heaviest, he was glad to have done so. For one seemed a little off it’s set. The sound of breathing and the weight of the thing convinced him that nothing had been lost, however.


Raising a hand to feel along the top of the door frame, he located the long rusting key that was hidden thereabouts. Some things clearly had not changed. But when he moved to bring said key to contact with the door’s lock, that same door yawned open, inward, and the Umbarian paused, only long enough to slip the key into his pocket and recognised the face which met him from inside.

“Well, look who it is,” Dolûzor grinned, and backed off, as the older, taller man edged one of the empty barrels swiftly between them. “I was just ..”

“I need these off the street,” Arkadhur made clear, with no patience for niceties. The man, one of Uhta’s, he recalled to have a quite too lively tongue about his young head. He’d obviously grown in age and bulk the last few years, but the same weasel-y face was still there, behind the scars and lines which time had earned him.


“We don’t deal in empty barrels,” he was countered, with a single booted foot jamming against any progress to bring the cargo inside. “This is a ‘chan-dler-eeee’ ..” the Corsair enunciated, with purposeful amusement and pointed with one hand to the faded sign that hung above the door.

A strong hand sent the empty barrel offside, and skeltering along it’s belly to roll across the inside of the room. So that a second barrel, heaved to take it’s place, protested all of the recipient’s attempts to do the same, in his turn. One set of brown eyes waited for the other to drop down, acknowledge that ‘this’ particular barrel was very much NOT empty. And then Dolûzor backed up, allowing for all five of the barrels to litter his shopfloor.

“Close the door behind you,” the young man invited his guest, without manners.

“I am going to see to the horse,” the newcomer made clear. “Tally these and ..”

“You can not think I’m going to just let you leave ..” Dolûzor marvelled. “I mean, you .. have some explaining to ..”

“You can not think I went to all of the trouble to get these,” Arkadhur indicated the barrels between them, “here, and then not get what I’m owed for the trouble ?” he returned his own apparent amazement to the younger man. “Hold your breath until I return,” he scoffed, and closed the door behind him.



Veering around the now crowded shop floor, Uhta’s man watched through a slivered gap in the boarded up windows, to note that the unexpected arrival waved something small in one hand, before calmly leading the horse and emptied cart away from the Chandlery door. With a sharp tap on the top of each barrel, the Corsair remaining made his way back to the counter. A loud stamp with one foot on the floor sounded more of a hollow echo than a sound building ought signify. It was only then that the realisation struck, and the young man checked the recently relocked front door, recollected the shape of what Arkadhur had waved in one hand before taking his leave ..

“He took the key !” Dolûzor called up the stairs then, in something between an alert and an annoyed complaint. He stamped again, angrily, although the warning had already been delivered from the first stamp, to his colleagues who were loading down below. By way of an assigned man for that very purpose, the crew in the caves below were alerted of persons in the shop. The guard closest the secret door would run the hidden corridor underground to make the alarm known to his peers. It would be Captain’s call what to do with that information.


It would be all that Uhta’s now unsupervised young man could do to keep himself from peering into the barrels, while he was alone with them. Only his suspicion of the other Umbarian convinced him to hold off. They could be a trap ! Dolûzor had not, as it happened, been chosen to watch at the Chandlery for his good sense, but rather for his canny luck to have a ‘Gondorian look’ about him. Rare thing, for the crew of Captain Uhta Halsad, at least, these days. Ever since Lond Daer, in fact. The Captain’s crew had been infiltrated once, by an enemy. It would not happen again. Thankfully Uhta trusted his young pale crewman. Though it didn't hurt to ensure that same young crewman knew all of the stories about those who ought not to have been trusted.

---

@Arnyn

Dolûzor, crewman of the ‘Spectre’ (aka the ‘Spook’) ship
On a neighbouring rooftop. September 3rd (Almost a Year after the events of 'Carpe Diem')
Just after the Rangers’ set their trap at/departed the Chandlery, Harlond

It had taken a good deal of restraint to not rush in and aid his colleagues, when the rangers had attacked the Chandlery. Dolûzor had sat back and observed before though. Most often as a small group from Lond Col broke into and checked the Chandlery. It had become something of a regular annoyance, although the Gondorians never got anything out of it. They may have learnt that the building was involved with the ‘smuggling’ out of Harlond. But they did not seem to be aware of the existence of those hidden ways beneath, or how to access them. The Belfalasians came, they saw, .. they inevitably left. And Uhta’s man always gave enough notice for anyone underground to be aware of their approach.

Sooner or later, he had assumed they would cease coming at all.


So this day the corsair watched the Rangers come, just as they had been forewarned and then, some time later, surprisingly encumbered by prisoners, and even more suprisingly ... depart again. He noted that only those of Dev’s crew who had been set there, were arrested by the Rangers. None of the men whom Uhta had sent from his crew had left the building. Not from the street at least.

A friend might have checked. Waited, as the young Umbarian did, until all of the Rangers had departed, not only the closed shop, but from Harlond entirely. Some of their party had headed up to the Harbour Guards Headquarters. He had a good view from his roof to gauge their destination. And watch the last of them head home toward Minas Tirith, minus those of the pirates they had herded off before.

But Uhta's man did not need to check, to imagine what would have happened to his Captain’s crew. Zealots, Haradrim .. the Captain relied upon them more now than ever, since Lond Daer. But clearly … there were disadvantages.


A far cry from the chatty go-lucky young man who he presented as around Devedir’s crew a year before, it was a rather more doleful version of Dolûzor who stole now through the darkening streets, just in time to catch the last ferry of the night down towards Pelargir. It would be morning before he could get word to the Captain about what had gone down. And he would have plenty of time therefore to work out the specifics of reason. Because one thing was very extremely clear. Whatever plan Naluthor had gotten them engaged in, it had not ended the way that either of the ships’ Captains were going to be best pleased about.

That young Tark had best hope he had the coin everyone said, to pay for a mistake of this magnitude ! One which might have just finally cost them the use of the Chandlery in any sense ! Any hope of Gondorian authorities growing bored by finding nothing at the building, failing to justify further surveillance and raids upon the place … had just been entirely scuppered !

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Domanol Raxëlilta. Finding Duinion Raedor
at Daisy Dairy Farm, Pelennor Fields
in the rather early hours of September 4th.

The world was still. And therein lay the problem. He was by now familiar with the farm and it’s surround. There were landmarks, and all that lived about the place, whether inside or out. Typically the herd could be seen, mulling lazily in the pasture close to the barn. Cows, as far as he understood, preferred the choice to seek out their shelter, if weather got bad. But autumn had not yet ensnared the countryside. The trees were yet crowned, various heads showcasing a kaleidoscope of rich, bold colours. The hedgerow were heavy laden with berries. The breeze which ran through the pale grass, did not leave an icy refrain in it’s wake. The barn doors were closed. Making close first to that building, the man did not have to try hard to overhear the cattle within. A foot shift sounded, a low groaning moo. And then there were other sounds … conspicuously absent.

Ordinarily he would not have made so close to the house. But the man had no longer cause to hide his presence. His family, his friends, everyone in fact, it seemed, knew that he was in town. If the dog barked, as she invariably did when anyone approached the building, he could not be blamed for waking everyone inside. But no sound of Hattie met him. He would be forgiven for believing then, that he was alone.

But beyond the growing want to seek out the reason for this change, he felt it. There was no explanation that he could give, save recognition. Of hairs risen at the back of his neck. Of the all too eerie mood about the place. Something was .. off. He could not tell what. Or even yet why. But something .. something ..


His friend’s usual camp was similarly lonesome. Not even a glimpse of a snuffed fire, and Duinion kept wakeful late into the night. If he had retired to slumber, he would have put out the fire, which had not even been lit. Brown eyes frowned. He stooped low to draw back the veil of his quarry’s lair, warily. Considering that he had previously been surprised by an unexpected inhabitant.

There was nobody inside the tent though Domanol still split his lantern jaw into a smile, a slow shake of his dark head. As a warning came .. this time from behind him.

“You know, it’s one thing to call me paranoid,” the Ranger recognised the voice, raised both hands, one eyebrow and relaxed his stance, almost wearily. As he beheld his blood brother. “But honestly, Dui. You know better by now than to follow my any example.”


Descending into his usual seat, where a log had been positioned for that purpose, the elder man leaned back and waited for his friend to join him. In case this was not obvious, he patted the log ‘seat’ just beside him and then poked at the lack of a fire, rather pointedly, before glancing up to find what was taking the other so long to explain himself.

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

Duinion Raedor
Night of Sept 3rd (technically, the 4th now)
Daisy Dairy farm - Simultaneous with this RP

The familiar voice startled Duinion into lowering his weapon swiftly. He blinked, cast a quick glance around, as if he expected there to be another trespasser, besides the one who had spoken. While his friend took a seat as if this were any ordinary night, Duinion stood undecided for a moment, watching carefully around. Yes, Domanol could be paranoid, but in this case.. he didn't know the facts. Not yet.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Duinion idly thought about how long it had been since he had slept. Had Domanol slept at all, since they stayed up building that ridiculous pillow fort? He crossed the clearing and stooped facing his blood brother, but he didn't take a seat. If he sat down, he feared his exhaustion would catch up to him. And it wouldn't do to become drowsy when he was expecting a possible attempt on his life, after all!

"You're lucky I have had other role models in my life, who impressed upon a young ranger recruit that there are times when it is better not to shoot first and ask questions later." He informed him with a little smirk, while keeping his voice down. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were asleep in the room over the wood shop.. in fact, I tossed a couple pebbles at your window, but you didn't answer.." Clearly, the other man had not been in his room at the time.. possibly already on his way out here? Could it be that he had only missed Dom by a few moments, and had unknowingly followed him out here?

Thinking of someone following, he frowned, glancing around. "We should move out of sight," He added, motioning for Dom to come. The shadow cast by the house not far away looked like a far better place to wait for a possible attack, rather than here in the open where the enemy would expect to find him.

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Domanol Raxëlilta. Encountering Duinion Raedor
at Daisy Dairy Farm, Pelennor Fields
in the rather early hours of September 4th.

When the other man cast a wary sight about .. still. As though expecting further reinforcements, his guest observed the prolonged stance, the refusal to relax .. in this company ? Brown eyes narrowed, uneasily. Duinion rubbed his own tired eyes and Domanol conceded to the 'rebuke'. There was no denying it, so he would not. For there had been plenty times he had, himself, shot first and then only asked questions later.

Corpses don't lie. And what a corpse keeps on its lifeless person, what manner of condition it is in .. .. can tell the stranger's tale often just as well or better, than a deceitful tongue might not. Domanol did not answer to the same rules and order of ever present officers, nor neatly bordered lands of the Southern cities; not for a long time now. And there were more than one time certainly that he still wished he had not stayed his hand, on hindsight.


“You came all the way up to the Second .. and didn't just .. knock ?” He strove to understand .. the unlikelihood. And then winced at the concern that such 'stone summons' may have since woken his brother. For the man's ears worked just as well as Dom's. And after he'd been forced to wait for hours until Addhor had finally gone to bed too ... was that who Dui kept looking for ? Why he was so uneasy ? Had he brought Addhor out with him, annoyed .. at how his brother had snuck out ..?

"So, what ?" he puzzled aloud. "You wanted my attention but I'm not allowed to come out visit ? I thought .." Catching the Tirdinen's expression, the rogue Ranger lowered his voice accordingly, or rather belatedly, and continued."With what happened today .. I couldnt not come and see if all stood well,” he explained himself. "Add said to give you and the family some time .. after .. it all ... But we both know you stay up late so .. "


As Duinion began to lead them both away from where they'd whiled countless hours away, poking a fire by the tent, through all the past few months ... explaining things to one another ... Domanol sighed, clapped a hand over each knee and heaved himself upright also. After chasing his blood brother briefly across shadows, he finally could bear it no longer and caught out with one arm from behind Dui, to turn the other man to face him, where the looming structure of the farmhouse cast them both in greater shades of mystery.


"Tell me," he urged then, without letting go off Duinion's shoulder. For certainly there was something to tell here. This was not normal. This was not ... right. He'd seen the other man on edge before. But not on home ground. Not where he was most easy. "Where is everyone ?" Domanol admitted having observed that much change for himself.

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

Duinion Raedor
Night of Sept 3rd (technically, the 4th now)
Daisy Dairy farm - Simultaneous with this RP

As they ventured into the shadows, Domanol's confusion became evident, and Duinion realized the source of the confusion. Of course, he didn't know.. which Duinion should have realized because he had been the one to ask that no one tell him. He really was tired. But he could explain things now, since the immediate concerns had passed. "No, on my way down," he began to correct, before stopping. If anyone was going to come out here seeking to attack him, he certainly didn't want them to eavesdrop what he was about to tell his brother. So, he took a moment to think how to explain without that risk. Switching to Sindarin was not an option, he realized, recalling the lieutenant's words about the traitor who she believed to be an agent of Pharak. Androllius. A former guard of Minas Tirith.

As Dom's hand rested on his shoulder, Duinion reached over to rest his own hand on Dom's shoulder in return. "There is much I intend to tell you," He assured him, switching his words into one which only Domanol would recognize. One they had made up as children, so as to speak their plans in secret without Dom's mother or Addhor or anyone else understanding. It was good that they had revived their memories of that language of the past few weeks, mainly as a thing to laugh over, and had spent some time testing each other's memories to see if they each remembered how to speak it, and understand what the other said.

"They are on the sixth," He answered Dom's last question, still in their private language. "In one of the ranger houses, just for tonight. I.. I came by to ask if you would come out here with me, but when you didn't answer, I assumed you must have been asleep. So, I came on my own," In truth, he was quite relieved to have Dom here, as backup. Or, just to keep him company in case it turned out to be for nothing. "Eryn has reason to believe that someone may come here tonight, and attempt to harm me, or one of the other family, as we sleep. So, I came to wait and see if they show up." He offered a bit more explanation. "I intend to surprise them, if they do. So, when I saw someone lurking near my shelter.." He smiled wryly and dropped his hand to his side. "I am glad it was you, and not an enemy."

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Domanol Raxëlilta. Encountering Duinion Raedor
at Daisy Dairy Farm, Pelennor Fields
in the rather early hours of September 4th.

As Duinion bolstered their arm rest, Domanol tilted his head to better consider his friend. And when that friend turned to their own secret lamguage, in order to converse, his audience narrowed brown eyes. The more that his friend then told him, the less that Domanol understood. Though when the Tirdinen justified having decided to come alone, the older man pulled away, as though affronted, and smacked the younger lightly on his shoulder in a wordless rebuke. Standing back then, he simply puzzled further until he was supposedly brought up to date.

With more questions than answers to deal with, Domanol breathed deep as his friend rallied some semblance of relief. Then he sighed, glancing long across the horizon.

"Think that might be your mystery fellow ?" he queried finally, in the same private language, with a gesture toward the lone horse bearing ... somebody .. toward them. "Else, if it's Add, we're both in trouble ..."

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

Duinion Raedor
Night of Sept 3rd (technically, the 4th now)
Daisy Dairy farm

Duinion was beginning to think he had completely baffled his friend into silence... a very rare and difficult achievement indeed! But the smack on the shoulder proved what he was already a little worried about. Dom was not going to like having been kept out of all this. Of course, he wouldn't. Anymore than Duinion would've. But he hoped that he would also be understanding.. and that he would forgive him after he heard about how he could help, after the fact.

Just as Duinion was working himself up to trying to figure out how to begin to tell Dom the full tale, the other ranger drew his attention to an approaching horse and rider. Duinion tensed slightly, focusing his attention that way. "Dunno," He muttered in response. "We'd best keep quiet and watch.." Something didn't seem quite right, however. Something was at the edge of his memory, trying to surface, but he couldn't quite think of what it was he should remember. He did, however, remember that the fellow had had a girl with him, either as a hostage or an accomplice.. and if it wasn't his imagination, despite the darkness, it looked as if that were two riders on one horse. He frowned and watched, readying himself for anything... except for what it would actually turn out to be.

---

Erynneth Raedor

The journey out to the farm took far longer than Eryn had originally intended, but she couldn't help how tired she felt. She'd been hit rather suddenly by a wave of sleepiness that she could not fight, once the initial rush had passed, of waking up without Hattie being near, and not finding her father anywhere around. Even as she was transferred from one horse to the other, she hardly stirred. It wasn't until the horse had begun moving that she opened sleepy eyes to glance about and try to make sense of what was going on, and noticed the arm about her waist.

Some tiny flicker of alarm had made her look up and over one shoulder to observe that it was Nal seated on the horse with her. And so, thus assured that she was safely held in his arms, Eryn let her head rest back against his shoulder. She had stated earlier that she trusted him, and she'd meant it. He wouldn't let her fall. And he wouldn't let any harm come to her. Sleep had crept in, although she vaguely heard some talk between Nal and the guard, something about sickness and being contagious, or something. She hid a sleepy little smile and managed a faint cough, at the first gate. By the second gate, she had fallen asleep in his arms, and slept through the rest of the checkpoints.

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Domanol and Unalmis Raxëlilta, at the Daisy Dairy Farm, on Pelennor Fields
with Duinion and Erynneth Raedor. In the early hours of September 4th.

With a nod, Domanol conceded to his friend’s suggestion. And was belatedly relieved that the Tirdinen had led them into the shadow of the house. Here, they could quietly wait and watch, without the approaching mystery becoming aware of them, until they chose. As the mounted figure grew more defined with time, and the space fleeing between them; the elder man squinted brown eyes and identified what his friend had silently also.

“There are two on that horse,” he offered in their clandestine tongue, not doubting that the Ranger had observed this fact as well, but rather hoping to prompt the more patient man to confer on some sort of a plan. As it turned out, there was no need. For as it turned out, the wiry black dog broke away from trailing behind Baran, as soon as she caught the scent of the two otherwise undetectable men. Recognising both as friendly, Hattie belied all evidence of her recent adventures, and ran without hesitation toward Duinion and Domanol, barking excitedly.


“Daro* ! Hattie ! Awartho** !” Unalmis tried with no luck, to call back the exuberant hound, aware that she still only fell to the Sindarin command, when she felt like doing so. Training was a work in progress .. The terrier stalled for but a moment, glanced back, barked once as though to hasten her mounted friends to catch her up, and then bounded on forward toward the lightless house. And those who could not hide there, not from her ! The training might be still in progress, but already the dog had proven why she could prove an advantage. Though Nal could not yet see who was lurking in the shadow of the house, chance would suggest Duinion, and the young man knew Hattie well enough to observe she was upon a friendly, not defensive, meeting. So he continued their approach.


“You throw stones up at Sixth Circle windows as well ?” Domanol meanwhile asked his blood brother, out of the side of his mouth, as he stepped apart from the shadow and bent down to greet the arrival of Hattie. “Hey there, girl. Good girl !” the man gave his welcome and then joined his nephew in the Sindarin he did not need any training in himself. “Rovae***, rovae,” Large hands smoothed the animal’s long back as the man’s words fell to a whisper. “Caedo**** Hattie” he grinned. Entirely unfazed by the fact that the dog immediately span in place and barked some more, rather than heed him. There would be no rest for anyone this early morning it seemed.


“What are you doing here ?” the uncle and the nephew demanded of one another, both in the common tongue and at exactly the same moment. A thoughtful tap on Eryn's shoulder had alerted her to Nal's intention, just before he came fluidly to ground and began to carefully lead the dun horse, still safely bearing his young friend, toward their respective kin.

“I asked first,” he tried, as soon as they were close enough to converse without calling out..

“I’m older. You ought to respect your elders ..” Domanol put in. As the younger man snorted with undisguised but still amused disdain, and calmly tapped his free hand twice against one leg. Hattie loyally ran back to his side, and glanced from there between the two she’d found, and the two she’d come here with, .. to see what any of them would do next.



(Sindarin dog commands - Stay !* Leave it !** Gentler/Softer*** and Lie Down****)

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

|
Duinion & Erynneth Raedor
Very early morning of Sept 4th
Daisy Dairy farm

As the observation about there being two riders was confirmed, Duinion merely nodded wordlessly. His breath stilled in his lungs as he waited, tensely, to see what was about to happen. Before he had any thoughts about what they ought to do, however, the identity of the pair became rather obvious.. thanks to the familiar bark and form of Hattie racing toward them. Duinion's jaw dropped slightly as he heard the commands called out from the other very familiar voice. Unalmis?! And if he was here, and there was another person on the horse with him, then... Duinion's heart sank as he made a guess about who the other must be.

"No.." He muttered, pressing the palm of one hand against his face with a sigh. He looked up again, frowning at the girl rubbing her eyes on the horse. "And I left her asleep, I thought she would have stayed that way," He added with a touch of annoyance. "I want to know why both of you are here," He directed this toward the two youngsters, along with a frown.

Eryn had slept through the entire trip out to the farm, but when Hattie began barking, and Nal tried to call to her, she was drawn swiftly from her slumber. The nap had done her much good, as it turned out, and she rubbed her eyes as she became alert to what was going on. She was a bit surprised that they were already there, as well as a bit dismayed to hear the tone in her father's voice as he addressed her. "It wasn't his fault," She was swift to add, as she joined Nal on the ground. She might have gone to hug her father, but he did not seem too happy with her at the moment. "I was worried.. you weren't anywhere around, and I.. didn't know why." She looked for her bow, then glanced at Nal with some confusion when she did not find it anywhere.

Duinion let out a weary sigh. Of course, he should have known. With the day she had had, it was little wonder she would be a bit nervous to awaken and find him gone in the middle of the night, especially after what she had told him. He had not expected her to wake, however, so he had thought it would be alright to sneak out and do this, while she slept, and be back before she awakened in the morning. Apparently, not. "Well, I waited for you to be asleep, so you wouldn't follow me," He muttered. Then looking around, he felt that they were a bit too in the open here. "As long as you're all here," He glanced at the other two, holding back a sigh. "I suppose we ought to talk. But quietly," He cast a glance around, wary. "And maybe not in the open?"

Wide-eyed, Eryn realized what he must be thinking of. "You think he try something tonight?" She dropped her voice to a low whisper, wrapping her cloak closer about herself.

"I don't know." Duinion answered gravely. He motioned for them all to come along as he lead the way toward the barn so that the horse, at least, could be put out of sight. Meanwhile, he was trying to think of a good place where the four of them could sit and talk quietly, while still observing around them in case this enemy did make an appearance.

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Domanol and Unalmis Raxëlilta, at the Daisy Dairy Farm, on Pelennor Fields
with Duinion and Erynneth Raedor. In the early hours of September 4th.

It occurred to Domanol that this might not be the best moment to remark that clearly Eryn took after her father. For the father in question seemed almost exasperated that he had been followed, blinkered to the fact that he would have done the exact same thing, in her shoes. Stars though, .. was the girl even wearing any shoes ? Glancing distractedly, toward that new detail, the elder man began to string together some strains of understanding, from what his friend had begun to explain .. So he could see the why … that being why Dui would now be worried about Eryn being here, when he was expecting .. someone rather more dangerous. But hadn’t he said the girl had been the one who gave her father that very idea in the first place ? Perhaps she had not expected him to go and face that danger, being warned and all. Domanol himself had been astounded that his friend had apparently come to face .. whatever it was … all alone ..

Unalmis had meanwhile readied to ask the very same of the Tirdinen as that man was demanding of him ! Whatever Duinion thought that he was doing out here, leaving his family in a strange place and taking off in the middle of the night with no word … that was why they were here. Because Eryn who was rarely hesitant, ..tonight seemed almost alarmed, for her father's sake, and would not explain why .. that was why they were here. But unlike the (until recently estranged) Uncle, the other Ranger had earned more of the young man’s respect. And so Nal held his tongue, at least for now. Eryn got in first thus and took the blame, even as the young man shook his head, clearly disagreeing with her confession.


“Where did you find the horse ?” Domanol questioned his own kin meanwhile, as the father daughter team traded concerns.

“Stable,” his nephew threw back, as though that ought to have been obvious.

His uncle stared a small moment and then smiled, disarmingly. "Barn," he suggested pointedly, indicating where Duinion and Eryn had already begun to head for. “Wasn’t she the one who thought this .. whoever .. might try something tonight ?” Domanol wondered quietly of his blood brother, as the girl seemed oddly surprised by the very thought of a more sinister intrusion this night.


Unconcerned by their closeted conversation, Hattie ran into the barn, to explore, as soon as ever the door was opened. “Slow” Domanol held a hand up for the others to progress their advance more warily. "'He' might have gotten here before any of us. Did you put the herd inside ?" he checked, thinking aloud. The animals were in there. That was not usual. And as far as bait went, if someone wanted to be sure of ‘hurting’ Duinion, they would have to reason that the man would head inside the barn to tend to his herd at some point. He or someone else of the family ..

Unalmis offered no more words, astounded for his own sake to witness the Tirdinen suggest that they go .. inside .. ?! That was a first ! And as Domanol spoke of taking care … the rarity of the entire situation painted it ever more serious in his own suspicions. In the face of no manner of lighthearted jest which would improve the atmosphere, silence then was the young man's own, unusual offering. As brown eyes glanced almost wistfully back out toward the way that they had come. He was not going to like the learning of what all this was about. He could already tell. But there was certainly no way he would rest easy now in bed, not knowing what the rest of them were all so on edge about. With a deep sigh, and a brief close of his eyes, Unalmis let the horse lead him after the others, toward the barn. And whatever may come of their all doing so.



EDIT - I changed 'into the barn' to read instead as ' toward the barn', in order to fit with the contents of co-writer's next post.

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

|
Duinion & Erynneth Raedor
Very early morning of Sept 4th
Daisy Dairy farm

As Duinion struggled not to feel overwhelmed with tiredness over this whole ordeal, he was reminded by his brother/friend that he ought to check the barn. Of course.. Dom made a good point. And that made him think of why he ought to have tried a bit harder to get his assistance initially. Of course.. it would not have done much good anyway, since that same friend had apparently already been on his way out here to seek Duinion! He nearly shook his head in frustration over this whole mess, but stopped himself so that Dom would not think that was his answer to the latter question. "I did," He confirmed, about the cows. "And they have all been milked and given hay and all the necessary things," He added, partially to remind Eryn of what he had informed Cailon at supper, but also to share this news with the other two. "Something like that," He answered as an afterthought, but he did not wish to delve into that just yet. Not until they'd checked that there were no unwelcome guests on the property.

"But, yes, you're right." He added more quietly, in reply to Dom's mention that the fellow may already be inside. "You," He turned to Eryn, serious. "wait here." he glanced at Nal, wordlessly asking him to guard his daughter with a look he hoped the young man understood. Then, with a silent nod, he invited Domanol to join him in investigating the structure.

Eryn frowned as she was left behind, although she understood the reason. Folding her arms, she let out a sigh and glanced at Nal. The fact that Duinion had entrusted Nal with guarding her spoke of how much he trusted the young ranger, but then that shouldn't come as any surprise, as he had done the same thing many years ago, when he sent her away with Nal and the rest of the evacuees, when at the time, she had not even yet known the barely trained ranger.

It didn't take too long to ascertain that the barn was solely occupied by cows. And then it wasn't too much longer before Baran had been led into a stall normally occupied by Smoke, during the winter when it was too cold to roam freely in the pasture. It was agreed by the rangers that the best place from which to gather, talk, and still keep an eye out for potential intruders was up in the loft, by the large window which could be thrown open and allow for a wide view of the whole area. With bales of hay turned into seats, the four arranged themselves in a fashion where they could face one another, while observing the barnyard and house, which were in sight. The clouds had drifted away from the moon, which helped offer them an excellent view of anyone approaching.

Hattie did not like being left behind, unable to climb the ladder, and Duinion worried that the dog would not quiet until she had joined them. So, between them, they managed to hoist her up into the loft with them, so that she could run about and explore this entirely new area that had never been accessible to her before.

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Domanol and Unalmis Raxëlilta, at the Daisy Dairy Farm, on Pelennor Fields
with Duinion and Erynneth Raedor. In the early hours of September 4th.

Since Duinion confirmed that he had brought the cows into the barn himself, Domanol knew better than to meet the expressions of the ‘children’, who now took their turn to be told to ‘stay’. Whether they would prove more compliant than the hound of course, remained to be seen. Hattie had not even waited for the two elders to join her, before she began her own search of sniffing about the outbuilding. Thankfully the dog had lived at the farm for some considerable time now, and she was as unfazed by the softly lowing cattle as they were by her. “And you took the horses up to the Sixth .. ” the elder man reasoned rather than really enquired, since clearly those beasts were not present, unless his nephew had just returned one of them ... Dom was putting the pieces of the puzzle together. But still, if his friend had waited up in the city until he believed that his family were all safely asleep, .. that left yet some time between his leaving the farm and returning, for the mystery antagonist to have gotten here. It was hard to figure what such a person’s motive might be, of course, when the Ranger had no information beyond the worst type of vague; that somebody ‘might try to hurt Duinion or the family ..’ Dom reasoned then that potentially surly teens were the least of their trouble, and deftly turned his attentions to exploring the left of the interior, as his blood brother checked on the right.

“Hey,” Catching Eryn’s sigh, Unalmis decided that his feelings about what was going on here mattered little compared to those of his friend. This was her home, this was her family .. “’You’ ..” he grinned, as though the term her father had used was in fact Eryn’s nickname. The Tirdinen may have spoken sharply in his concern for the girl, but those crossed arms told of an equally defiant stance in return. “’Emmelin’ ..” Nal turned her attention to a very different name then, one which he alone called her, as far as he was aware. Reaching out from where he held Baran’s reins with one hand, the young man wiggled the fingers all .. of his free hand toward Eryn. Grasping for his friend before he sought to tow her in, toward him and .. slightly behind the horse. Maybe holding hands was for children, but he figured she might appreciate the safety that such innocence also recalled.

A drop and then swift rise of his gaze, had met the Tirdenen’s unspoken request, for the younger to be there for the other’s daughter. The girl seemed to have recovered some alert about her senses by now. So there was no real danger that she might fall back to exhaustion or collapse while they waited. Even more thankfully, she did not seem to recall, or at least enquire for, the bow and quiver he had elected to leave back on the Sixth. Because he was sensing a very good chance that it might have been useful after all. But since she had not told him, how could he have possibly known that ?


A call eventually came from Domanol that things were “All well,” in the barn, and so Nal let Eryn lead the way as he brought Baran inside at their rear. Since it seemed that they would not all be heading back to the city straight away, the Ranger removed the steed’s bridle and accepted his friend’s help in hanging up the tacking, to rightly settle the horse into the stall.

It was difficult to properly appreciate the vast view out of the raised loft space, when ensuring that Hattie did not venture too close to the opening, and leap down .. was an initial concern. But the dog had awkwardly endured the difficult ascent to reach that height, and seemed unwilling to test her agility now, against all odds, if it meant being far below the others’ perch again. She’d had enough of heights and holes in the last twenty four hours, to understand it was better to stay at the top, rather than languish at the bottom.

Sensing an uneasy silence, Domanol calmly raised his hand, as though he needed anybody’s permission to speak. “Well I’m going to start us off by stating how very glad I am, to find that you are safe and well, Eryn,” he glanced her way, one hand then calmly capping each of his knees, as his nephew looked over and nodded in support of the admission. “You’re family. To all of us here. And your father was not the only one that was worried.” the elder made very clear. “I don’t pretend to understand where you were all last night and what happened. But that’s probably something to do with why we are all here now. Am I on the right path with that thinking ?” He handed the floor to Duinion, stalling any questions about the precise danger that had been expected, for if that didn’t happen to automatically shape the other man’s answer.

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

|
Duinion & Erynneth Raedor
Very early morning of Sept 4th
Daisy Dairy farm

While standing back and waiting while her father and 'uncle' went in to see if the barn was safe.. was not exactly what Eryn would have liked to do after coming all the way out here to see if he was safe, she didn't mind too much since Nal waited with her. Hearing him call her Emmelin, Eryn smiled, then reached out to claim his outstretched hand, glad that it was dark enough to hide any hint of blush that may have otherwise shown up on her face. She still had the little bird call whistle he had won at the Rohirrim spring festival and had given to her. A yellowhammer. From that, had been born the name 'Emmelin', and it was a sort of inside thing between them. Though he pulled her gently to stand close to him, and behind the horse, Eryn kept her own gaze focused behind them both, literally 'watching his back' as the saying went, while he was gazing forward at the barn door. She meant to ask him about her bow, as soon as her father was out of earshot, but a breeze stirred the grass and made her think better of speaking just yet. Who knows who could be lurking out there...


Once they were all satisfactorily settled and comfortable in the loft, with Duinion facing one angle of the barn, while Domanol faced the other, while Nal and Eryn sat near each other, in the center. Domanol's words made Eryn smile faintly at him, in gratitude for what he said. She looked at her dad, then. "So... can I tell them now?" Eryn asked quietly. She had been anxious to tell Nal everything, and it was clear that both Nal and Dom were extremely curious. It was a marvel that neither had been asking all manner of questions by now!

Duinion hesitated before he nodded.. in answer to Domanol. "Yes, you're on the right path," He confirmed. He looked around at the three of them, then sighed. He addressed that to the uncle and nephew pair seated around the loft with them. "Before we tell you what's happened today, I must apologize in advance for keeping the information from you both until now.. and I hope you'll understand. Because you two should know..." He hesitated and shifted, as if the hay were causing him discomfort, but really it was the fact that he had a good guess at how both were likely to react. "I had reasons, which I felt were good ones."

Having offered his 'disclaimer', Duinion then looked at Eryn, thinking about how best to begin. "Alright, go ahead. You might as well tell your part, first." He told her quietly. He had heard parts of it already, but he would hear it again while the other two heard it for the first time. Perhaps, she would tell the entire story in full, now.

Eryn nodded, relieved to finally be released from her 'vow of silence' on the matter. "After you three left for the summons thing, me and Buttercup and Hattie went exploring," She began. "Since we had all afternoon with nothing to do until evening, we roamed way out into the fields, further than I'd ever been before." She hesitated, looking down. "Then Hattie must've smelled something.. and she went running off after it, and I went after her." She drew in a deep breath. The hay smelled sweet. The smells from below, from the cows, were not so sweet, but at least it was a smell of 'home'. "We.. ended up at this.. house. Or what used to be a house. It was a burned-out shell, all charred and broken up in places. But the worst part.." She wrapped her arms around herself, as if chilled. "There was an awful smell of death down there. Something.. someone.." her voice dropped off to a whisper.

Duinion maintained slow, steady breathing to keep himself calm while his daughter spoke of her 'adventure'. Refraining from interjecting anything while she told her tale.

"Hattie went down there," Eryn frowned, reaching out toward where Hattie had settled in, to stroke her fur. "I followed her, reluctantly.. I guess at the time, I figured it was just.. I don't know, a deer that had gotten stuck down there or something like that. But.. it wasn't." She glanced up. "There was a dead woman down there." She revealed in a slightly shaky tone. "I.. I couldn't believe it. But there she was.. she must've been there several months.. a year maybe.."

Taking a breath in, she closed her eyes for a moment. Trying to remember her actions of that moment, perhaps. Or perhaps trying to shut out the memory. "I.. was startled, and I backed up swiftly. When I did.." She glanced at Nal, then at Dom, and last at her dad. "I bumped against the back wall in the cellar. It.. moved. I felt one of the stones shift. And.. once I got over the shock of.. of seeing the dead body.. I figured it was something that the rangers ought to know about. And.. since I was the only one there, and I knew all you rangers were up in the sixth, and it'd take me forever to go get any of you and then come back, I figured I ought to look around and see all the details, so I could give a proper report of what I'd found there.. you know? Instead of just rushing back to say 'hey, there's a dead body out here', I could tell whatever I could when I did get back."

"Understandable thinking, but I wish you had simply left right away," Duinion muttered, before waving a hand to tell her to carry on.

Eryn looked down, a bit apologetic. "There wasn't any danger around, at the time." She made clear, and shrugged. "I was the only one there, except Hattie. No one else had been there in ages, so there wasn't any reason to think there'd be anyone coming along in the next little bit." She fidgeted. "Anyway.. so, I um, went to take a look at the poor woman, I guess.. to see if I could tell anything about who she might've been, or something. She.." Eryn swallowed. "it was hard to tell very much about her, but she had bandages.. and she'd been tied up.. and.." She let out a shuddering breath.

"Bound and left to die down there, far from any help." Duinion supplied the information quietly, going from what the lieutenant had told him.

Eryn nodded. "It was horrible.. she was missing fingers, I think even an ear.." Eryn shivered, recalling the gruesome sight. Shifting just a little closer to Nal, she tried to remain calm, reminding herself it was all over and there was no need to get worked up about any of it, now. Yet, she still needed a moment.. and figured perhaps Nal and Dom maybe needed a moment to process all she had told them.

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Domanol and Unalmis Raxëlilta, at the Daisy Dairy Farm, on Pelennor Fields
with Duinion and Erynneth Raedor. In the early hours of September 4th.

When Duinion forestalled the explanation with his admitting of ‘reasons’, Domanol met the Tirdinen’s gaze with a silent nod. He could hardly protest the keeping of such trusted friends in the dark after all. Not after all the years of staying away, rather than bring his truth home with him. There were more secrets than stones in this city, he mused, soundlessly. “Let’s just say we’re even now and put it behind us,” he proposed aloud, and smiled. Somehow. But the hand he might have clapped around his brother’s back in merriment .. didn’t quite make it off his knee. “Tell on ..” he said instead, encouraging Eryn. Without ever blinking.

Unalmis took his gaze purposely out of the opened loft space, surveying the tranquil sea of pale feathered grass beyond. Not trusting himself to explore the expressions of those he cared for, until Eryn shared the word ‘down’ more than a few times, in her narrative. His brow had already begun to furrow at the mention of a charred ruin .. of a house .. out in the middle of nowhere … As an eerily similar setting had featured in another tale he had heard. And the fact did little to assuage his unease. Particularly when ‘a cellar’ was given as the explanation.


The mention of a dead body made both men glance up though, in unison. “Technically it is first something the city Guard ought to be told about,” Domanol put in, although he seemed somewhat begrudging about the protocols. The Pelennor was of course the playing grounds of the city guard, though he didn’t recall half so many bodies and things being part of the job back when he had been employed so. “But I can see how you’d rather tell your father,” he added swiftly. While Unalmis made only some unintelligible mutter about the Guards in general, and did not offer an opinion. The dates .. were lining up a little too well for his liking. Several months ago, when they knew Arkadhur had been in the Pelennor. Nearly a year ago, .. again .. An abandoned farm, a cellar ... They had never been able to locate it when he and Trev had gone to check. They'd had Hattie along with them too. But Eryn had a knack for finding trouble, which apparently surpassed even their own !

Of course, neither he or his Uncle were surprised when the young woman informed them she had not decided to seek out immediate assistance, but instead to first investigate. Domanol half raised one eyebrow in Duinion’s direction with a rebellious smile, almost proud of her. Initially though, with the reference to how the wall had moved, combined with the Tirdinen’s wish that she had not lingered, the elder man thought they were going to hear that she’d been trapped by maybe some collapse of the cellar structure. And the irony that the two Rangers of Gondor had apparently, in that very same moment, been causing walls to crumble up at the Barracks .. was almost too much ! But then the way she spoke of how there’d been ‘no danger around at that time’ and ‘there wasn’t any reason to think that anyone would be coming along’ … presented a very ominous unspoken promise. That somebody had .. come along.

“Most in your position would have run from finding even that much, screaming out across the countryside,” he put in, impressed. Though he quieted his public approval as his friend made clear the fate of the dead woman. Bound and left to bleed to death, 'far from any help'. It was not too far by now from anybody's mind that Eryn might have come to share the same fate, and Domanol found himself glancing as subtly as he might manage to check the girl's own hands were not bandaged .. Someone was expected to come here tonight .. the same someone who had done this nasty to the (now) dead in the cellar ? He wished now more than ever that he'd brought the sword. This was not a story of a thing that had been. This was a prelude now to a thing which was.


As they were given more description of quite what a state the dead woman had been in, the meaning of it dropped into the heart of every soul who heard. Missing fingers .. meant only one thing to this small audience. Unalmis extended an arm about Eryn’s back to support her, as she leaned in closer. To have found .. that .. She shouldn’t have had to. And if would have been bad enough to have simply come across what had been left behind. But since Eryn had then been out all night and not found until part way through the next day ? This was likely going to get worse before it got any better. And then there was the thought of the deceased woman herself. She had been somebody else’s daughter, maybe mother. On the positive side of course, she had been found now. She could be laid to rest now. Her people could stop wondering and worrying ... There must be someone out there who was looking for her .. He rallied toward the positive strains of the situation, such as they were.

“Her family can lay her remains to proper rest now. They can stop wondering what came of her. That's thanks to you,” the young man offered his friend, gently, as some recompense. Even as he straightened up at another, less consoling thought. “Bloody ropes ..,” he recalled then, under his breath, when his friend reached that matter: mind racing to what his friends had told him happened at the broken down farm which they had been to .. with Arkadhur, nearly a year before. And there he frowned. “Wait, she was tied up still ?” he confused aloud, turning to Eryn. But Arkadhur had brought bloody ropes up out of a cellar with him, when he abducted the girls, warning them they'd share the fate of .. . The details were fitting, and at the same time, .. not. Were there other bodies yet to learn of ? He shook his head when others glanced toward him, allowing for Eryn to continue, to explain away these inconsistencies. Though brown eyes found Duinion with understanding. He was beginning to realize why the other Ranger had not come to them with this immediately. And also .. exactly why he should have.

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

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Duinion & Erynneth Raedor
Very early morning of Sept 4th
Daisy Dairy farm

“Let’s just say we’re even now and put it behind us,”

The suggestion brought a wry smile to Duinion's face. In fact, that was exactly what he would like to do. But Domanol had not even heard the worst part, yet. Would he still feel the same, once he had heard about the message Eryn's captor had sent? That Duinion had deliberately kept its intended recipient from ever receiving it?

While his daughter went about narrating her tale, Duinion split his gaze between watching the yard below, and glancing toward her to see how she was faring with the retelling of these frightful events. So far, she seemed alright, and fortunately, Nal was at hand, nearer than Duinion, to offer comfort to her. It troubled him to hear her account, even knowing she was safe now. Knowing that she had been through those things... it angered him. Made him want to find that guy and.. take a deep breath, he told himself, struggling to banish thoughts of violence from his mind. It wasn't only for Eryn's sake that he wanted to smash the guy's head in, either. He spared a brief glance toward Unalmis. Nal. She hadn't yet come to the part that Nal would find most upsetting, and rather than think about that, Duinion turned his gaze outward, focusing on the shifting shadows outside.

The suggestion of getting the guards involved brought a frown to Eryn's face, then a quick glance at Nal. "I... don't know that they can be trusted," She admitted quietly. Nal's comment may have been unintelligible, but she half-heard enough to make a guess at what he'd said. But she didn't comment, figuring if he'd wanted them all to know what he'd said, he would've said it where they could make it out. Instead, she smiled faintly toward 'Uncle Dom' at his comment. "I didn't see much point to screaming.. and it was more.. like a horrifying shock than anything, I guess." She clasped her hands in her lap and let out a slow breath.

Nal's comforting arm was indeed that, and she smiled slightly at him, both in gratitude for the gesture, as well as for the words he clearly meant as further comfort. Yet, when he brought up the question about the bloody ropes, her smile faded as she was reminded about that. "Yes," She nodded gravely. "I thought that was odd, too. She was bound. I remember that part specifically," She insisted. "And, she was wearing funny clothes. Like.. costume things, almost." She added, realizing she'd nearly left that bit out. "Much like Cali said she and Iole had on when they woke up, last year." She paused. "And there's more, Nal. Worse."

She glanced toward her dad briefly, but he was adamantly keeping his gaze outward. And Domanol had little to do with this, so she turned specifically to Nal, now. "The stone that moved, I discovered that it could be pulled out. The dirt behind it had been dug out, like on purpose. And there was like.. a deep little pocket in the ground behind it.. with some things hidden there. I reached in, and first, I found this leather.. tube, like a case you might put a scroll or map into, right? And there were papers inside, but it was too dark down there to see. So I went back up the steps and sat down where I could look at them..."

A slow breath in, then out. "Nal, I found Cali's missing report in there. And a bunch of other official looking sort of papers and stuff. Most of them didn't seem to be of much interest, but that one... I read through the whole thing. And you know what? The page where Cali names the guard who was at the gate when it happened.. there were two of that page." She told him with wide eyes. "Someone had copied it exactly, except for one little detail." She paused and cast a little glance toward Dom, then back to Nal. "They changed the name of the guard. One copy listed that Androllius guy as the guard on duty, the one who looked into the barrels and saw Cali and Iole in there, then let that creep through the gate anyway. The other paper listed it as being some Lieutenant Feirion that was on duty." She sat back with a little smile of satisfaction. "And I've still got those two papers, to prove it."

[Pele Alarion]

@Ercassie , @Rillewen
Cadil
Guardhouse at the South Gate, locked up with Nal

"How many Umbarians have escaped really?" Cadil asked, his curiosity peaked. Why, if they could only get out of here, catch up to the wagon and somehow check out those barrels... perhaps they could do a very good job and perhaps receive some award. He studied the cracked window thoughtfully.

"Do you have any more of those papers?" he wondered, considering the available options. "I could try and see if I can... open... that window. Spread more messages. Perhaps figure out how to open the door from outside." He did not think at the moment that performing the last might be just as impossible as squeezing himself through the window to escape the guardhouse.

Carefully he ran his fingers along the crack - not right over it to keep his fingers from being cut, but right next to it on the whole glass. Then he formed a fist with his left hand and pressed it over the place where he had struck the glass with the nail to see if he could push the damaged window covering outwards. His right hand still held the nail tight in readiness to use it to make more puncture spots.

"What do you say?" he asked of his friend, while doing his best to test his ideas in practice.

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie @Pele Alarion

Carpe Diem

Ademar Androllius (wearing uniform of Lt. of the Guard)
Pelennor - Southern Gate (Alone now) - Last day of Autumn Fayre (last year)

Once the wagon had gone on its way, Mar was bored. He was still keeping an eye out for that little thief, but it was beginning to look more and more as if the passing of Arkadhur was going to be the only excitement left. Instead, his gaze turned toward the small guardhouse. He could have a bit of fun there, maybe, but he hadn't decided yet how to handle this.

As his eyes drifted that way, he frowned to notice some papers fluttering around near the door. The flow of traffic had slacked off significantly by now, and he strode over to pick up the nearest paper. Eyes narrowed as he crumbled it into a ball and then snatched up all others that were in sight. Turning back to the guardhouse, his frown deepened as he noticed the cracks in the window. Really? He rolled his eyes, then smirked and approached from the side of the structure. From the window, they would not be able to see him at all, and if they chose to believe he was gone entirely.. well, that was fine with him.

Glancing up at the sky, Mar estimated about how much longer it would be before his relief arrived, and began thinking about what he was going to need to do. He seriously doubted that anyone in Gondor would ever see either of those two girls again, so he didn't think he would need to worry about that.. yet, he didn't yet have the other two pests taken care of. Which meant he needed to make sure he was covered, on the off chance that something went wrong.

Leaning against the wall on the far side of the door, he frowned while halfway listening to the talk of his two prisoners, although his mind was on other things at the moment. The roster would show that Ric had worked this shift. So, he would need to change that as soon as possible. He wondered if the captain would even be willing to accept another bribe, but maybe that was too risky. He didn't want the man to start to question why he would need to change the schedule... so Mar would simply adjust it for him, to show that someone else had worked this particular shift. Then there were the two guards who could testify to the fact that 'Ric' had worked this shift. Whatshisname, who had worked the shift before Mar, could say that Ric had been the one to relieve him. And whoever came soon to relieve Mar would be able to verify that Mar was here when he came. Except.. he would make sure that fellow could not tell anyone that. He'd have to arrange for some sort of accident to befall the other fellow as well, just to cover his tracks. But that would have to wait a little bit at least, to make sure it didn't seem tied to this particular event.

Then there was the woman. Mar smirked slightly to himself as he imagined Ark's expression when he returned to the place and found his captive missing. After he was through here, he'd return to the cave where he had hidden her, bring her back to the ruins of his old house, and leave her right back where Ark had left her. Maybe he'd even dress her up a bit like Cali and Iole had been, just to throw a little more suspicion on the Umbarian. And then.. he'd wait for just the right time to leave an anonymous tip with the guards, telling where they could find the wife of that fellow who'd posed as a lawyer.

At the sound of another blow on the glass, Mar rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, then moved abruptly so that he was in sight of the window. "You realize that any and all damage to the guardhouse will have to be paid for by the perpetrator?" He scowled, although inwardly amused at their futile attempts at escaping. "This will be added to your list of crimes and fines to be paid." he clarified, scoffing as he stepped back. "But feel free to cause more damage. Makes no difference to me how much money you end up having to pay.. In fact," he smirked. "If you cause enough damage, maybe you won't even be able to pay for the damaged, and they'll be forced to put you in the dungeon." He sounded far too pleased by that idea, grinning as he stepped back to let them think about that. Meanwhile, he moved to a position where he could easily see anyone coming from either direction.. from the road from Harlond, or from the road from the city.

---

@Ercassie

Carpe Diem

Nikulas of the "Wingolos"
Inside the Chandlery
Last day of Autumn Fayre (last year)

“He took the key!”

It was a moment later before the previous audience to Doluzor's story, poked his head out from the top of the stairs. "Who was that?" Nik wondered, unsure if they ought to be alarmed. Eyeing the many barrels now about the floor, he frowned. "What's all 'em for?" He wanted to know what had transpired, even though he was really supposed to be keeping an eye on the window. But really... couldn't they just take a little break? They'd been sitting up there for ages, it felt like, and he'd done a good job in spotting the fellow with the barrels well in advance. No one else was likely to come, and even if they did, the door was locked. They'd have enough notice.

"Wanna see what's in them?" Nik ventured the rest of the way down the stairs, having made up his mind. Captain wouldn't know if he took a moment to satisfy his curiosity. He tapped the nearest one with his foot and found that it sounded hollow. But that was a common enough ruse. At the other fellow's inviting gesture to allow Nik to go ahead, he shrugged and tapped the barrels until he found one that sounded solid. A grin spread over his face, intrigued. What could be in there? He shook it slightly. Not liquid. Some sort of expensive goods, maybe?

In the time it took him to get the lid off, he had thought up several different ideas about what could be in there. But the dark-haired, pale-faced female he found within had not quite occurred to him. "Wellll! Come lookit this!" He hastily motioned Doluzor over to have a look, as if to verify that Nik was not imagining what he saw. "Too bad there's so many empty ones.." He muttered remorsefully, then cast a glance over at the barrels he had not checked yet. Could there be more "goods" like this stashed away in the rest of them?

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen*

Carpe Diem – Part 39




Iole Ishen (with Cali*), at the Chandlery, Harlond.
encountering Dolûzor and Arkadhur (as well as Nikulas*)
On the last day of Autumn Festival, last year.

The day was not yet over, and already it was far from where it had begun. The close confines of the dank barrel did not envelop Iole in a warm embrace, but rather hovered, like a hard cloak of darkness at the shadow’s rim of a small fire. Wide blue eyes had long since closed upon such sorry surroundings, since there was little to be seen regardless. Still she noted every inch of their passage since she had awoke. Every jolt of the journey. Every fear slowly realised as a sharp blow struck at one side, unseen. Then a violent tumult shook her from all sides at once. And then the lid was lifted ..

The face which leered down at her blinking confusion was not at all welcome, and all thoughts of springing with immediacy from her sodden seat … was hampered by want to avoid .. that .. Him .. The strange man’s face shifted out of focus, only long enough to coax another to come look as well. And the second, for all that he was clearly younger, smaller, was no less pleasing to look upon. Their expressions saw the young woman shrink down as far as she was able, something that she would not have thought possible until it happened.


“Now that’s a barrel worth opening,” Doluzor grinned, pushing in to better see what Nikulas had uncovered. But the Umbarian was not so fool to try and fight the mightier sailor, not when there was the chance he might find another .. of his own. Three empty barrels had yielded only hollow echoes to exploratory kicks. Until this one. Could the last one also …

“Ahah ! ” the Corsair grinned, as he drew forth the lid from Cali’s barrel, eyed a second dark haired female, and threw a triumphant glance back toward his companion. “One each !” he celebrated, somewhat prematurely as it turned out.

“Please .. ” Iole heard a meeker variant of her usual voice, sneak out of quivering lips, to campaign to the men. “Help ..” she began to give shape to what would have likely been a fair performance that would break most men’s heart. Not these though. Not only were the two unused to the concept of kindness, but they were not the only ones to stake a claim for the two delivered damsels.


The turn of the key in the lock betrayed his return, but Arkadhur was permitted to enter the Chandlery, and catch the two other men, as though they were children opening gifts before time. “You couldn’t help but poke and paw at them, could you ?” he sighed, shutting the door behind him and prising the loosed lid out of the youngest corsair’s hand. “They’re not for you.”

“I don’t know .. ” Doluzor raised his emptied hand and ran it through his hair. Then ran his other hand across the top of Cali’s head, clamping tight to turn her face upright for examining it better. “Only fair to inspect the cargo after all. This one looks damaged already ..” The man’s eyes squinted to better judge the evidence of blood about ‘his’ find. “Looks like you have already ..”

“Is your Captain here ?” Arkadhur put in, with an undisguised air of frustration. “I thought you would have raised someone with authority by the time I got back here. I’ve still to fetch the rest ..”


“Hold up, hold on,” Doluzor dropped any grasp on Cali, as he was handed the means to imagine other, ‘better’ and hopefully undamaged .. ‘stock’. He certainly wasn’t itching to be the one to have to explain to any of the Captains why a girl he’d had his hands on already was in such a state. There was no market for broken ‘dolls’ after all. Not where they were like to end up. “I told you before now,” he squared up to the taller and elder man. “You can’t just go about freely here. I’m sure Captain wants a word .. or two with you. It’s been a while .. ” he glanced over to Nikulas and raised an eyebrow. “Four years ?” he queried of his colleague, before turning back to smack a hand across Arkadhur’s chest. In a move that might have been intimidating if the man who dealt out was anywhere near as muscled as the men he’d seen and copied to perform it. “If there’s any ‘fetching’ to be doing, I can ..”

“Are you not meant to be on watch upstairs ?” Arkadhur ignored Doluzor’s best efforts to order him about and considered the more impressive bulk of the other pirate. “There’s a Harbour Guard carrriage parked right outside the front door ..”


Without stopping to accuse the man of lying, Doluzor planted his face against the nearest boarded over window, and did withdraw until he’d seen the evidence for himself. “Sure’s there,” he accepted. “Noone driving though .. ”

The Umbarian glanced over toward Nikulas and allowed for the slighter of the three to catch up.

“You stole it ..” Uhta’s man finally picked up the strands of what had been plainly laid out for him to comprehend.

"Prove it," he was countered. After a moment's thught, the younger Umbarian crossed his arms across his chest.

“Where am I driving it to collect the rest of the girls ?” he demanded to know.

“There’s a guard’s uniform already laid out in the back,” Arkadhur admitted, as though it pained him to do so. “Our man is waiting at the South Gate. But he’s expecting ..”

“Me ..” the younger Umbarian swelled his chest out almost proudly. “It’s about time someone realised that I can pull this ruse all the way up to the big city ..”


“South gate,” he was reminded. The door slammed behind him in answer. “If he messes this up, he’ll bring a whole heap of trouble down on us,” Arkadhur lamented to Nikulas, as though it had only now occurred to him. “I’d take back to your watch if I were you.,” he secured the lid back down over the top of Cali’s barrel, casual as you like .. “I can make sure these are taken care of ..”

---

@Pele Alarion*

Unalmis Raxëlilta. With Cadil* and Ademar*
In the Guardhouse of the South Gate. The last day of Autumn (last year)

Cadil’s first strike with the coffin nail made more impact against the window than all the work he had committed against the lock. Half expecting for the Guard outside to run over and respond to the racket, Unalmis did not know whether to be relieved or concerned when only silence came. Turning the knife over, in his hands, the Ranger considered offering it up to Cadil as a more sturdy tool. But his friend was already serving up a steady stream of conversation. An endless enthusiasm of ideas .. and a thought struck. Like a nail against glass ..

“He bolted the door,” Nal recognised quietly, and then narrowed his eyes to consider the intrepid escape artist before him. “I remember now. I heard it, just after he closed the door behind you. He never even turned a key. Did you only just realise as well ?” he wandered at the sudden change of plan toward using the window .. Because there was no way they could pick a lock from the outside, through a window neither of them could fit through to start with. “Or have you known .. all this time ?” he waved one hand toward the forsaken lock picking activity .. and could not find the words. “You are a jolly flagon of hope, you know that ?” The conclusion was accompanied by some small release of laughter.


If his unlucky companion on this escapade had been simply keeping up conversation, encouraging the thought process, keeping them fixated on a chance, a faith, belief .. that he was making progress, doing something .. that meant that they were not as helpless as Nal had first feared. Shaking his head, he put his damaged knife back at his boot, and drew forth the rope that Cadil had stowed in his bag with the sandwiches.

“I take back everything I said about you bringing too many supplies with you,” he recalled aloud, when asked for input. And began to knot a loop at one end of the cord. “Maybe if you can break the glass proper, there could be a way to snag the bolt on the outside with this, and draw it back across, toward you ..” Brown eyes glanced up from the short work he made of the knot, to judge Cadil’s thoughts on the subject. Their success of course would depend very much on whether the bolt was designed to draw toward the window, or away from it. But then there was always the back up of his earlier idea to boobytrap the door itself. It seemed as though the rope, after getting them into trouble with the tree climb earlier, might just prove to be their salvation after all. That and the young man who had thought to bring it.


It had, unfortunately, been longer by now than Nal had anticipated that they would be forced to endure the close confines. He’d lost all sense of time already but following Cadil’s line of focus, at the splintered glass, it was darker out there already. There was less noise to be heard from outside too. Was the queue of folks seeking their homes, now dwindling or disappeared entirely ? How could that help or hinder their efforts .. The Ranger was just about to ask Cadil if he could see ‘Rip’ still out there, when he heard the jerk, closer to the gatehouse than he had been before. Right on the other side of the window in fact !

“You do realise that if the window is broken from the inside, then you will have to explain why you held us in here, with no proper cause ?” Nal returned to the Guard in kind, though the tease and humour was rather more lacking from his tone by now, than it had been in their previous exchanges. Climbing a tree, or a wall for that matter, was hardly a serious offence. And did the guy really think that they could not even afford to pay for a window though ? The two of them combined, even if either one alone would have had trouble ? The notion of having to pay the idiot any amount of coin of course, would be deplorable after all this. But there was no way they were the ones going to end up in a city dungeon.


It occurred to Unalmis though, as he paused to think on it, that ‘Rip’ was actively trying to discourage them from keeping on with their efforts .. so, maybe he was actually worried. Maybe there was a chance they could get out. And if they did, there was likely only him standing out there by now.

“I just thought of something else, .. ” the young Ranger decided, gesturing for his friend to lean closer, to hear something he might share. “This will get us out in no time ..” he added, with undisguised volume. And then whispered, far more quietly, “We can’t loop the lock if he is stood right there, able to stop us,” he confided to Cadil in a low tone that would not be heard from outside. “So just pretend I am whispering some fantastic plan to you, and we’ll see if he gets worried enough about what we’re going to do, that he might open the door to check what we’re up to ..” He handed his accomplice the readied rope. If nothing else, it could be improvised as a whip, to stand for a weapon, in need. Which gave them more reach than a coffin nail or a damaged knife might, though the close quarters were not really ideal to properly exploit it.

“What do you think ?” he returned his voice to it’s usual volume. “There’s no way he will ever know what we’re doing until it is too late ..” The brown eye furthest from the window, winked, with purpose. Unaware that their antagonist was not entirely without assistance on the outside. A horse-drawn carriage, it’s barred and locked carriage bearing the insignia of the Harlond Harbour Guard, was ambling in an approach, where the Guard on duty at the South Gate, at the least would easily observe it.

[Pele Alarion]

@Ercassie , @Rillewen
Cadil
Guardhouse at the South Gate, locked up with Nal

"You say what?" Cadil said, turning around to stare at Unalmis his brown eyes unblinking and large as saucers. "He didn't even lock? I didn't even notice..." Apparently he had spent a good long time on a vain activity that would have yielded no fruit even if he had succeeded. Then he shrugged with a sheepish grin and turned back towards the door to find their guard on the other side.

He could not help but roll his eyes as he retorted. "How much can such a tiny window cost either way?" he added his replies to those of Nal, raising his voice so that anyone else being outside might also hear. "Even if we pay, it won't be to you no matter what. Besides, I will make sure to press charges against you if you don't let us out. Keep that in mind!"

Turning back around, he hid the nail in his pocket and drew close to Nal, listening to his whispers.

"Give me that rope..." he murmured, and then set about making knots on its other end to create a makeshift weapon which would at least distract if not cause damage. The nail might prove more effective in close quarters fight. Cadil hoped it won't come to that, though he was prepared to fight tooth and nail, should the whole situation turn out more than teasing by a nasty guard and they had to fight to regain their freedom. The whole matter of someone who was meant to protect citizens being such a bully made him feel bitter. And what was that whole deal with that Umbarian guy too?

Frowning, he straightened again, testing the strength of the knotted end of rope against his palm. "Aye!" he said loudly. "Let's do this."

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

Torniel
Catch My Draft Inn, in the east of the Lossarnach region
Late December

She'd arrived just after midday, after having taken care of some business on the way. The man she'd met with had proven to be a tough negotiator, which is why the Hand had sent her in, this time. She had fulfilled her task, even gaining more than had been required for their side of the agreement. The Hand would be pleased. If she managed to gain a similar very positive outcome on the task she needed to complete tomorrow, that would go a long way to regaining favour with her 'uncle' and boss.

Her arrival at the inn had not been uneventful. As she'd left her horse at the stables, she'd seen a tiny person scurrying away, trying to remain unseen. And she knew what that meant. Some lonely child, abandoned or orphaned. No longer having any work left for the rest of the day, 'Torniel' had followed - until the little girl had had no more place to hide. They had spoken, at length. Over an hour. Finally, Torniel had taken her leave from the young child, wearing a troubled frown on her otherwise flawless face.

She had taken the time to clean herself up from her travels. Doing it right. Brushing her hair until it gleamed. Making sure her skin was properly hydrated and looked like it was, too. She had little use for face painting, and did not. But she did use a strange contraption to curl her own lashes, and dabbed something translucent onto her plump lips, that kept them looking just the way men subconsciously liked. She loosely pinned up her hair, making it look as if she had spent hardly any time on it, although every lock fell exactly the right way to emphasize the features she wanted. Her eyes. Her cheekbones. Her lips. Her collar bone. She donned her expensive-looking emerald green dress, embroidered with golden trim. Since it was winter, she added a shawl around her shoulders in the exact same kind of green, though of an even more luxurious fabric than the dress itself. Obviously the dress and shawl had been acquired as a set. She draped the shawl the way it was meant to, for now. So it covered the shoulders and decolletage her dress otherwise left bare.

By the time she made her way downstairs, to the inn's common room, the afternoon was growing late. Torniel approached the bar. She knew her preparations had the desired effect when she saw the bartender having to take a moment before he could get the words out to ask her what she would like.

"Tea, please," she ordered, sounding just shy enough to make the man behind the bar smile.

"What kind would you like, my lady?" he asked her, leaning forward onto the bar a little. "We have a few kinds..." he listed them, four options in total, and Torniel took some time to consider them.

"Which one is your favourite?" she asked him, instead, surprising him and making his smile grow wider. "Or which one would you recommend, for me?"

"I think... for you, the rosehip," the bartender decided. "Please, take any table you like. I will bring it over to you shortly."

Torniel nodded with a little smile and then turned toward the room, assessing which tables would be easy to spot from the entrance door, without it being obvious she had chosen the table for such a reason. She wanted a good overview of the common room herself, as well, so she could gauge what kind of attention she was or was not drawing at any given moment.

As she was debating her choice, a man left his table and approached her as she still stood by the bar. "What brings a lovely lady like you to Lossarnach?" he asked politely, giving her a small bow. "At least, you do not look local, m'lady?" he inquired. "Also... I would most definitely remember seeing you before."

The brunette smiled, looking down momentarily before lifting her gaze again. "You are too kind, sir. I do travel frequently. I was actually hoping to meet someone here, this evening."

"Oh?" he inquired, though he looked a little disappointed. "I might keep you company until they arrive?" he offered, gesturing at the table he'd been sitting at.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Catch My Draft Inn, Late December

Today was the day.

The day of the rendezvous. Something Abrazimir should have had much more experience in, as a younger man, if it hadn’t been for the War and his engagement in it’s conduct. But those days were behind him, happily forgotten in the obscurity of memory stretched over time. The present day held such hope and promise. And he could focus on things that made him happy for a change. One of those things was a meet up with a very special, and enigmatic, lady.

He didn’t honestly know what to expect. He was aware of the mechanics of courtship. But he had never really pursued one up until now. He hadn’t gone to anyone for advice or counsel on such a thing either. He was going in blind. Maybe he was a little embarrassed. He was rather…old, to finally be seeking some experience in such things. Was that abnormal or was such a delay merely a perk of being a long lived Numenorean, to have more time to relish and enjoy such things at a more leisurely pace?

What did he even know about this lady? All his interactions with her had been a spur of the moment thing. All of it. So far, just following him whims and guesswork, he had somehow managed to perform very well. So much so she sought him out. And agreed to be seen again.

This was the agreed upon time. Midday. Abrazimir journeyed alone from Minas Tirith, leaving his family behind, giving vague excuses for his whereabouts for today, and made his way to the Lossnarch inn, cutely named Catch My Draft. He stabled his horse and tipped a full silver coin for the upkeep, noting a few other steeds already parked. One looked like it might belong to a very discerning lady. For a moment, he just inspected this other horse, noting the saddle and harness and richness of the quality of the gear. Who was she? If she really was a daughter of nobility as he suspected, then she was very wise to conceal her identity as much as she could, for a tryst like this. He couldn’t deny he was burning up with curiosity.

But that’s all it was to be, right? A tryst. Between two consenting adults. What could possibly go wrong?

Well he assumed something might, or why else would he continue to be girt with his longsword at his hip, the handle and pommel peeking out from his taut, ankle-length cloak of brown. His long hair he knotted into a tight bun behind his head and at his chest, the hems of his cloak were bound together with a bright silver chain. His long sleeve tunic was tight and belted to his physique, though the few strands at the neck were left undone in a casual. Despite the cold he had ridden hard and vigorous and felt the heat of exertion. That would pass soon. His trousers were dark, tucked into high riding boots, of an equally rich black leather the same as his belt.

His gloves were thick and fur lined. He pulled them off as he entered the main structure of the inn. And immediately laid eyes upon her.

She was not alone but what did he expect? Maybe he should arrive sooner. Beautiful woman like her would definitely have other callers and seekers. But having been hand picked, by her, gave him a certain air of confidence, and lack of shame, as he strode over to the one he dubbed Torniel and her current pursuer. Abrazimir lightly rested his forearm over the pommel of his longsword that peeked out from his tight cloak. A silent threat.

By the Valar was she dressed so splendidly! He might even start to feel a little under dressed when compared to her. Green and gold hues, with a lovely shawl, and her face done with such exquisite cosmetics he might have mistaken her for an elf. How is it that every time he saw her, she only continued to elevate in beauty?

”Had I known it was going to be this sort of dress code, I might have done up my top button.” Abrazimir announced his arrival to the pair, speaking in a light and dry rustic tone, flashing a charming grin, his eyes doing a full inspection of Torniel and her lovely gown, before looking at the other man hovering by her side. Abrazimir, without blink, held the other man’s gaze, while still addressing Torniel. ”Is your friend joining us? I thought we might get a table…” He jerked his head, without breaking his stare, towards one of the empty tables near the far side of the inn, where things might be more private and recluse.

The other man glanced at where Abrazimir's arm was resting and seemed to have caught his drift, so to speak. With an incline of his head, he moved off. Thanks for keeping her on ice, I suppose. Looking back to Torniel he offered his hand, to escort her to a more comfortable and isolated space. Where they could...get to know one another.

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

Torniel
Catch My Draft Inn, in the east of the Lossarnach region
Late December

The door opened, and it only took a quick glance for Torniel to determine whom she was meeting had now indeed arrived. Even though his hair was pulled back today, and as such did not instantly give him away, plenty of his other attributes set him apart from the other men present at the inn. A pleased smile, slight as it was, tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Apologies," she offered the man who'd just invited her to his table. "I do believe he has arrived."

There was no time for anything more than that, before Dauntless strode over to them. With his forearm resting on the pommel of his sword. Her dark, sultry gaze lifted from that detail up to his grey eyes. If he thought he was being subtle, he could not be more wrong. Yet, in a way his chosen approach was rather satisfying. He already felt the need to assert some sort of claim? Part of her wanted to roll her eyes at it all, but a different part was drawn to it all the same.

Her faint smile grew stronger at his comment about their chosen attire. She did not miss the way he looked her up and down, and with no small amount of approval, if she had learned to read a man right. She did not reply to what he put before her and the other man. Instead, she took this time to make her own inspection. If he could, then why would he balk at her doing the same, after all? Dauntless could measure his boldness with the other fellow's in the meantime. As for Torniel, she did not doubt whose boldness would win. If Dauntless had shown her anything, during their limited interactions so far, it was that he had no shortage of daring. The other man would inevitably fall short.

As expected, it did not take long before the other man accepted his defeat and took his leave of their presence. Her eyes had just returned to Dauntless' face when the latter looked away from the man - back to her. Her amusement was muted though evident as she gracefully put her hand in the one he offered.

"Good afternoon, sir," she offered quietly in return as they walked to the common room's other side together. When they reached a suitable table, she lifted her hand from his and brushed at the chain keeping his cloak fastened. "You look hot," she commented, likely referencing the flush in his cheeks from riding as he had, combined with all the layers of outerwear in the now warm inn. "You should take that off." With a little smirk at her own comments, she dropped her hand from the chain and his chest, but did not shy away from his gaze.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Catch My Draft Inn, Late December

That was the first time Abrazimir had ever been territorial about a lady and it felt…both invigorating and a little shameful. Shameful because…well, Torniel could make her own decisions and didn’t need him chasing off her caller-on’s, right? It took away from her agency. And he had no inkling just how deadly and impressive her underlying agency already was. How could he, when she placed her little hand in his so gingerly and he led her on. Unlike the polite gestures and grips of the Masquerade, Abrazimir truly held her hand this time, even for the short jaunt across the inn’s common room. Fingers wound and tighten about her own, until he brought her to a table and four chairs.

”Good afternoon,” he replied to her on the way, letting her take her seat, though she had to brush at his upper chest, at the chain that held his cloak so taut and fit around his form. ”It’s freezin’ outside, actually.” He chuckled a little, and made a gesture for her to take her seat first. Only then did he comply, never taking his eyes off of her gaze as he did, releasing the chain, pulling the cloak from his form, and draping it over a chair. His sword came next, which he balanced on another chair like it was a member of their little group here.

It was a silent symbol. Interference in my affairs is handled by this bloody-minded tool…

Then he took his own seat. Across from her. His long legs spread out under the table. He could almost…brush, his boots to hers. He folded his hands on the table neatly and allowed his smile to expand more as he faced more directly, more privately. ”You look nice. Gorgeous.” He said about her outfit, letting his eyes wander to see what was visible of her form above the surface of the table, before returning to her eyes. With a slow drag first over her lips. For a moment, his tongue prodded at the inside of his bottom lip, bulging it out a moment, while some thoughts ran through his mind. But that came to an end as a tavern wench came over to take their order.

”Hullo! Something to drink or eat perhaps?” She inquired politely.

Abrazimir still had his sea-grey eyes locked on Torniel. ”Good afternoon.” He greeted the server, without ever looking at her. ”Cheesy bread to start. Some fruit. Bottle of wine if you have it-“

”No wine, sir. We have a raspberry ale. I can bring you a flagon and two cups…?” The waitress inquired. Abrazimir made a gesture towards Torniel. Interested? He was famished, and thirsty, and hoped she was as well.

When that was completed and they were left waiting for their nourishment, Abrazimir drifted closer, to the end of his chair, bringing him a few futile inches closer to her as she sat across the table. ”You were waiting long, my Lady?” He asked her gently. ”This is a nice establishment, though it never occurred to me stop by and stay here for a time.” He began with some small talk. He didn’t know what he ought to say first to her, having only just met her a few days ago. And knew next to nothing about her. But this is what this rendezvous was for, right? Getting to know one another.

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

Torniel
Catch My Draft Inn, in the east of the Lossarnach region
Late December

Freezin'. Was he trying to sound less like a noble? Or was he simply enjoying operating free from his regular 'bonds'? After he gestured for her to take her seat, she pulled out a chair and claimed it as if it were no less than a throne. As if she had turned it into one, simply by sitting down on it. "Time for you to warm up, then," she replied, as she watched him removing the tight cloak to drape it over one of the chairs next to hers. He put his sword on the chair off to her other side. He was choosing to sit across from her. And telling the room that they were not open to additional company. She pointedly glanced at both chairs before settling on the man, who was now sitting down.

He appreciated the way she looked. With a slight smile, she brushed the fingers of her right hand over the folds of her shawl. "You look nice, as well. Handsome," she mirrored his compliment. She drew in a deeper breath when his lower lip moved, and tamped down her upcoming smirk to a private smile when the serving girl came over to their table. He was not looking away from her, she noticed. Not even to glance at the young woman who was taking their order. Torniel calmly returned his gaze, with a confidence that was not granted to many. She gave Dauntless a small nod when his gesture inquired whether she was interested or not. The server left them.

"I had only just come downstairs," she answered his question. "Long enough to have ordered some tea, which will probably be arriving shortly. If that impressive sword of yours has not deterred the bartender or the server." Was that a tease? It would be difficult for him to tell based on her tone and expression. "The food is good and the rooms are clean and comfortable," she allowed as he spoke of the inn. "A very suitable place to stop for the night. Since I had business nearby this morning, as well as tomorrow, it was the obvious choice. After that is concluded, I will be heading back to the White City." The hand at her shawl stilled. "Which is not where you live. Your accent... speaks of Belfalas." She looked thoughtful, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if she were trying to look into his very thoughts. "Your mannerisms... of nobility. Possibly knighthood." Torniel tilted her head, her deep brown eyes losing their discerning edge and gaining their more usual seductive quality as she smiled at him with a hint of curiosity. "Will you tell me how far off the mark I am?" she asked him quietly.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Catch My Draft Inn, Late December

His smile was wide when she called him handsome. And said he looked nice. Abrazimir had been complimented before but there was something more special about having it direct from her. A very pretty lady. Surely she would know what is what, on the same plain of quality as herself, and thus her praise meant so much more to him.

He was glad to hear she wasn’t waiting long, though clearly still too long enough for her to have garnered herself a caller-on. Abrazimir did not ride all this way to be gainsaid by some local. He smiled knowingly when Torniel mentioned his longsword might deterring the staff. ”I am sure the promise of coin and generous tip will bring them back.” He retorted cleanly. He quirked an eyebrow about her mention of the rooms being clean and comfortable. He wasn’t intending to stay but slumber wasn’t the only thing that could go on in a room. She said she had some business in the area though, which quirked his curiosity the most. What sort of business would a pretty, rich young lady like herself have? Nobility generally didn’t sully their hands with commerce.

He noticed her hand stopped caressing the shawl. She had gone still. Full focus in fact, on him, guessing his origins. His eyebrows piqued, though he knew it was an easy guess to make. He didn’t exactly hide his origins in his speech, nor his profession, given the longsword sitting at the table with them on it’s own chair like it was a disparate member of their circle and not an extension of his will. ”Right on the mark.” He confirmed to her. ”I have some…noble blood.” He consented, coyly, at first. ”From Belfalas indeed. And I am a knight, correct. I am very proud of my service. From Umbar to the Pelennor and beyond the Great River. Right to the very doorstep of…you know. Yonder Realm.” That no longer existed, thank the Valar. But what a time that had been. And he wouldn’t deny those experiences shaped who he was today. And who he might be forever.

Abrazimir then wondered what she might have been up to in that time. ”It is a great thing, to wield arms in defense of one’s land and people.” He indicated his sword with a glance. ”Have you ever had the honour…?” He inquired thoughtfully, not thinking her hands were experienced with weapons, but he wouldn’t put it past her to be. He knew many formidable women in his time.

The waitress returned with the flagon of ale, a bed of raspberries floating in the foam, and set down two tankards. ”My thanks,” Abrazimir said with a smile to the woman and handed her a silver coin. Tea was deposited for Torniel, making him quirk an eyebrow. ”Tea, huh? And here I thought the traditional method was wine and dine. But seeing as to how they have no wine here….I mean we’ve already skipped a few steps, haven’t we?” He shrugged his eyebrows suggestively at her. And they still didn’t even know each other’s true names. Well, he asked hers. He wasn’t telling until she changed her answer first.

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

Torniel
Catch My Draft Inn, in the east of the Lossarnach region
Late December

"I am sure it will," she agreed to his claim that money would ensure the staff would still attend to them. His own confirmation, about her assumptions concerning his person, made her smile. Torniel was pleased that she was correct, as well as that he was not attempting to deny it. As surely she would, if he were to happen to guess 'right on the mark'. She could only imagine what a Belfalasian knight would do if he knew what dealings she was involved in. Especially one who was so proud of what he did, as he claimed to be. Drag her off to some holding cell, most likely. She would have to be very careful with what she shared, and how. Oh, how the Hand would hate her taking a risk like this! It made her want to dig in her heels all the more, however.

"Then I have you to thank for the protection of us, civilians," she spoke in her velvety voice. "During the long war, and especially its... violent end." She shook her head slowly. "I have not had the honour, myself," she supplied, without hesitation. That much, she could tell him - and tell him true. And her hands were more than soft enough to make that believable, despite her fit physique. "I do know how to use a bow. And my uncle insisted I learned my way around a dagger. He wanted me to be able to handle myself. Just in case. But I am no warrior." Not in the slightest.

She had to laugh, very quietly, at his comment about her tea, and wining and dining. "I can have the tea first, and the ale later. If you are planning to leave any." Her cup had already been poured, and she carefully tested how warm it was to the touch. "You might consider a sip of this, if it is so cold outside," she suggested, smiling coyly. In the back of her mind, she remembered the young child hiding near the stables. Her gaze dropped to the table for a moment.

"Sometimes skipping a few steps, as you say, is much better than jumping through all the hoops. Would you not say that society lines up all too many?" she inquired thoughtfully. "Am I to continue to address you with 'Dauntless'?" she added, lifting her cup of tea from the table, and holding it out for him, in case he wanted to warm up."Or will you tell me your name, now you've told me your profession?"

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie @Pele Alarion

Carpe Diem

Ademar Androllius (wearing uniform of Lt. of the Guard)
Pelennor - Southern Gate (Alone now) - Last day of Autumn Fayre (last year)

After having said his piece, Mar had walked away from the window, so he was actually oblivious to whatever they were saying or doing in there, although he did catch a little of Cadil's parting words, and rolled his eyes. Actually, Mar had much bigger things to think about. Like how he was going to get them to Umbar, or at least someplace where no one would find them or interrupt his fun.. after all, he'd learned from his mistakes after the incident with Ryn. And there were two of them, and only one of him.. so he had to figure out some way...

He was interrupted from his thoughts as he saw a carriage rolling up the road toward his gate. Coming from Harlond.. bearing the insignia of the Harlond Harbour Guard. Catching his breath, Mar felt his muscles tense slightly. What was this? He peered intently into the gathering dusk, trying to see a little better, wondering if he was going to have to come up with some sort of creative story to explain his captives. Just in case, he decided it would be best if he met the Harlond guard a bit further from the gatehouse, and set off to meet him as far from the gate and its gatehouse as he could reasonably manage, without it actually looking strange. "Hail, comrade. What brings you up this way?" He called, keeping his tone friendly as he spoke to what appeared to be a fellow-guard.

---

@Ercassie

Carpe Diem

Nikulas of the "Wingolos"
Inside the Chandlery
Last day of Autumn Fayre (last year)

"Nice!" Nik declared, upon hearing that there was 'one each'. Although, from what he could see from here of the girl that his companion had uncovered, she appeared to be out cold, and didn't even stir when Dol grabbed her head and turned it toward him. Nik grinned down at the pretty, albeit bedraggled, female stuffed into the barrel he had opened, who was not at all unconscious. In fact, now that he looked at her again... she looked somewhat familiar, but with her down in that barrel, it was hard to be sure. "You don't needa be scared o' me, missy." He took hold of her arm, so as to 'help' her out of the barrel. "We'll help you." he promised, although his grin promised something else. "Won't we, Dol?"

He'd hardly had time to pull her into a standing position, surprisingly without much resistance from the clearly frightened girl, when Arkadhur returned, clearly annoyed to find that the watchmen were 'inspecting the cargo'. Nik held back a sigh as he turned from his 'find' and scowled while the man was complaining that they hadn't gotten anyone with authority up here. "Hmmph," He scoffed. "Not our fault they hadn't got up them stairs yet." He muttered. "It's a long climb, y'know?" He retorted. However, hearing that there was more cargo like this to be 'fetched', his eyebrows raised slightly with interest.

Folding his arms as the man turned to him, asking if he should be upstairs. Technically, yes.. he should. But then he would miss out on the fun! He waited in silence while Dol went to check if there really was such a carriage out there. Just as Nik was thinking 'guards wouldn't be coming here', the guy mentioned a Harbour Guard carriage. Nik tensed slightly to hear that, knowing the captains would be angry at he and Dol if the guards stormed the place while they were meant to be on watch.

While those two were arguing, Nik decided to entertain himself with something better. Turning to the girl, he finally got a chance to take a proper look at her. A grin spread over his face again, as he took her by the waist and lifted her out of the barrel. "There, ain't that better?" He asked her, while putting an arm around her to make sure she didn't think this meant she could run away. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ark glancing toward him. He cast a look back as if daring him to protest. After all, she'd have to get out of the barrel to go down below, anyway.. right? But it seemed Ark was more concerned with manipulating Dol into going to collect the rest from the South Gate.

Smirking slightly, Nik watched the other guy take off. "Maybe you should go hold his hand, make sure that he doesn't mess it up?" he suggested, amused at the notion. He looked at the young woman beside him, then back at Ark. "My captain'll be real interested in this'n, you know." He informed him, with a little nod to the girl. As if it wasn't obvious what he was referring to. "I remember her. Caused a bit of a fight between some of us, she did." He snickered at the recollection. "A lot of fellas lost some money, bettin' on the wrong guy, but not me," He grinned proudly. "I won the pot, bettin' on the underdog. But point being," He nodded toward her, "I think Dev'll be mighty interested in this cargo."

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Anardil ‘Warder’ Thavron and Erfaron Sílûgnir. This year ..
at ‘The Siren’s Embrace’ Inn, in Harlond. Some time before Erulaitalë
Following immediately on from THIS POST and THE RESPONDING POST AS WELL (Both clickable links)

Not long after his companion had finally agreed to take a seat, Anardil was given leave to try and find some ‘thing’ at the bar which might satisfy the Elf’s thirst. He had crossed the room supposing that this meant a thirst, quite literally. But as raised voices began to surge about the room, a glance back saw Silugnir was readying to be satisfied in a whole other manner. He had even raised a pale hand, holding the drink which the man had left there, as in a toast. Only to turn it upside and spill it with purpose upon the floor, daring anyone to stop him. The rogue Immortal then lounged back against the wooden chair, eyes scrutinising the scene .. which was shaping up to be quite a performance.

The man sighed and tried to relax although he hated eyes upon him. It felt as though he was expected to mess up, and everybody knew it. The Elf certainly seemed ready to be entertained by any sort of embarrassment that the man should incur. It was more than that though. There was something … the raised voices which had devolved now into a sudden smashing of glass .. the startings of a scuffle .. those voices were familiar. Failing to gain the bar keeper’s attention, the Belfalasian glanced about him in the meantime, and his heart stalled where it sat. He more than recognised some of those voices. He recognised their faces too. As well as the clear indication of a grown man picking on one younger .. slighter .. even more familiar.

Trevadir. That was Trevadir. He had not seen the boy in many years now. But that scowl, and the uncanny likeness to a certain uncouth Captain, left no doubt in the man's mind.


A swift study of the room did not bring the young man’s father to view. But that might be either good or bad. And there was no time to figure out which. The pirate .. Samroth .. he remembered, sent the flutist hurtling across the room with a deep planted kick to the youth’s chest. And just as the bar keep, apparently unaffected by this latest fight, asked what the tall man wanted, Anardil had turned away, following the scuffle even as his hands commenced the draw of a long sword from his hip. The steel hissed a warning as it made it’s steady escape from slumber, and it was a good job that the man had taken the blade out of it’s holdings more than a few times during their journey south. For it was more mighty in weight as well as length than any sword the retainer was used to. Still he was no small man himself, and cut a formidable figure, as he called out for the anarchy to cease.

“That is more than enough, sir !”

Admittedly the choice to mention ‘sir’ earned him rather more than a few chortles and spat out drinks from the now amused onlookers. The great sword in hand and the very unimpressed expression however .. saw none brave enough to offer any commentary. The blade hovered, poised behind Samroth, it’s point near enough to the pirate’s neck that he should see it in his peripheral vision, and observe the point .. of it’s warning.



Silugnir was nowhere near entertained ‘enough’ thus far, although the Elf had to admit, the day was taking a far more interesting turn than he had expected since arriving. Perhaps this dive had it’s value after all. A silver flute had spun across the room to meet his fingers as they deftly caught and curled around the instrument, letting the previous amusement of an emptied ale glass roll onto the floor, striking his foot. Unflinching, cold colourless eyes flicked from the more unexpected projectile .. to the next, larger object which was flung in his general direction. A young man.

He rose without haste, as the dark shroud of his hooded cloak tumbled down his back, revealing the silver-white hair, that leant no framing border to the cadaverous, chiselled face. His entire form was less shimmering, more simply the opposite of shadow. As though a blizzardous figure was emanating from the indistinct garb which struggled to swathe him any longer in any means of camouflage. Far from the image of the 'ancient ones' that might have been honed in the minds of these degenerates, but far from anything usual .. nonetheless.


As the young musician stammered some excuse for an apology, as though he’d deliberately gotten himself so abused, Silugnir lowered the flute in his closest hand, gathering the boy’s attention before he too flung it, this time clear through the stained glass window, shattering the kaleidoscopic mural to litter the street outside. With a dismissive sideways knock of his head, the Elf clicked his teeth, encouraging the winded mortal to “Go, fetch ..”

The stockier man who was advancing, with a cruel dagger and fell intent, ought then be distracted. By the axe which come to the Immortal’s other hand, and proceeded to bear down with such a force between them that it sheared the ancient wooden table there clear in two. Stepping through the splinters with the ruins of the furniture on either side of him Silugnir turned the axe in his hold, so that the heavy wider shape of the bit was exchanged, for the slender icicle sharp pick on the other face of it’s head. This was what the Elf brandished, meaningfully, as he approached the man (Samroth). If the abused musician was smart, he would have made his escape, or sought after his prized instrument outside, while the Immortal held his adversary’s attention. But the disturbing albino meant, if he were honest, to do rather more than that .. Whether Trevadir had moved or no, the Elf now towered over where the youth had previously landed, making clear his objection, or else interest for engagement with the man who’d threatened a mere child. There would be consequences of any further insistence.


“Enough, I said,” the Belfalasian brought words into the heated ‘conversation’. Though it was unclear though quite which of the two more dangerous individuals he was directing his counsel toward. “You don’t want to be doing this.”

“You know me not so well … ” the Elf remarked, rending his weapon playfully with one smooth slant into the chair which had been knocked aside when the table was ravaged. The slow progression did not slow as the two heighty figures closed in on either side of the drunken antagonist. The already spilled glass of unwanted ale did not fracture underfoot even as the Immortal furthered his proximity to his impending victim. An oddity amidst the rest of the damages managed. As the Elf sent the now hooked chair hard into the pirate, following behind it so that Samroth was forced by the twinned momentum to stay firm beneath. Silugnir calmly set his weight on the chair from above, holding the man in place, as the Immortal idly snapped off the end of the nearest chair leg and brought it down within an inch of piercing the pirate's eye.


“Drop it,” Anardil had stepped back out of the way, allowing for the man to be took to the ground without his tripping over him. The long blade swung like a pendulum in his grasp, over Samroth’s head as the Belfalasian flicked grey eyes toward the dagger, meaningfully. But Silugnir had already taken his reluctant accomplice at his word. Relinquishing the broken chair leg harmlessly offside, he simultaneously drilled the pick of his axe through the floored man’s hand. Taking his time over it, he only retrieved the weapon's puncturing tip once his stare had burned through the man's resultant expression, and the steel had met all the way through to the floor. With a spurt of blood erupting also in it’s wake.

Calmly glancing about then, as though daring anybody else to weigh in, the Elf sniffed disdainfully, and made his way toward the door. “You could not find a drink that would entice me to loiter in this place ..” he sighed rather than asked. Almost jaunty in fact, in his assumption, even as the axe was flung perilously aloft by one hand to fall and rest easily back across his shoulder. Unsure what to say for himself, or in light of the entire spectacle, Anardil simply followed his urgentless exit, inadvertantly smashing the unbroken ale glass under his foot as he did so. The man did not send his blade back unto it’s rest until they were clear of the inn, but nonetheless dipped his head briefly in a minute farewell before the door closed behind them both.


It wasn’t until he’d managed to catch up with the swiftly departing Elf, that he realised he had not stopped to see what had become of Trevadir. Torn between going back, or losing the obviously wayward guest he had been charged with escorting back to Lond Col, the man found his choice made for him when only the latter could be seen. If the young musician had any of the smarts which he had not proven as a delinquent teenager in Minas Tirith, Anardil could only suppose that he had cut his losses, and left such a deviant location. He sincerely hoped so, recalling who he had himself met at the Siren a few years before. The Belfalasian was certainly glad to leave, truth be known, and more glad than ever that he had chosen to veil his usually proud colours and insignia, just in case. The small bag he had grabbed up on his way out meant they had left nothing but talk now in the 'Siren’s Embrace' to recall them. He had been wise enough to stable his horse at another livery, knowing the reputation of the Siren's clientale would likely see it stolen from there else.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Catch My Draft Inn, Late December

If there was anything amiss within the Lady before him, Abrazimir did not sense it. Indeed, something like that would be far beyond his wisdom or ability to grasp. He was simply not trained or experienced in such dealings. So the sensation of the first time to court a Lady was…vivid. And potent. Almost as intoxicating as the ale he would soon be sipping on. His mouth watered with the possibilities, his tongue again exploring his lower lip in visible thoughtfulness as he paid apt attention to Torniel. He smiled at her gratitude for his service and explained she had only self-defense training, to which he nodded understandably.

”A skill all should know, man and woman both.” He said, envisioning the simple act of her…cutting vegetables or something, to be a thing of beauty. Those fingers of hers did seem very deft. He smiled broadly at her jest about leaving her some ale. He answered only with a quick dart of his eyes to the second cup, which was obviously for her. It would be pitiful if he had to drink alone. Bad luck too, they said.

”I welcome the warmth then,” he said, eyes watching her test the heat and taste of the tea. He was more interested in tasting… ”Any warmth really.” He smiled further, eyes locked on hers, though he noticed her gaze was downcast for a moment. The look of someone who knew cold. Or something more. But soon she returned, mischievous as always, again flaunting the ability for them to be free of social constraints. So many of them, in fact. Then she asked him…about his moniker. Should she continue to call him Dauntless?

Abrazimir leaned back, knowing they had just come to an impasse. Who’s will would prove mightier, then? ”You will just have to, until you give me something else to address you by, Torniel.” He retorted cheekily, flashing her half a smirk. You first.

The waitress came back again to see if they needed anything else. Abrazimir was not bothered by the distraction. Indeed, he asked for a fork and a small bowl, which was brought shortly. He took the fork and scooped some of the raspberries floating in the foam of the flagon, setting it in the bowl. Once four or five were collected, he pushed the bowl, fork, and beery fruits towards her, offering her a morsel to chew on. Then he poured his beer, skillfully, getting only a small head of foam in his cup. He left hers empty for now, until she asked for that.

”I wonder if you might have a profession, that isn’t simply a Lady waiting in the wings.” He said, making reference to some noblewomen growing up in their family homes until they were eligible for marriage, then…married off. Some didn’t seem to mind it, like his older sister. It was rich and comfortable. Others felt like they were intended for greater things and that was alright too. He was curious which end of the spectrum Torniel might fall on, if she had any ambitions, and desires, and motives.

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

Torniel
Catch My Draft Inn, in the east of the Lossarnach region
Late December

He'd welcome the warmth. Any warmth. Yet he did not reach for her cup of tea, which she had subtly offered to him. He could not possibly be refusing her because he did not want to sip from the same cup, could he? Torniel watched him, intrigued. Was he trying to play it cool at least in some ways, then? A little smile played about her lips. It remained there as he said she would need to keep calling him Dauntless as long as she had him calling her Torniel. Her slight smile even grew a little at the sight of his smirk. She liked that smirk. Her own expression even mirrored it, for a long moment, as she assessed the look in his eyes. And let him assess hers.

When the waitress returned, Torniel had no requests, even if the man sitting across the table from her asked for a fork and a bowl. They spent some time in silence, both of them waiting for the other to buckle. However, neither of them did. After the gentleman's request had been delivered, he soon offered her the bowl, now with a few raspberries inside. Torniel watched him pour his own drink, and her eyes flashed amusement as he wondered about what she did for a living. The last part of his sentence, gave her pause. A lady waiting in the wings? Like a noblewoman? She raised one eyebrow. Surely he did not think... Did he? Could he?

She'd never thought she could pass for a noblewoman. Rich clothes and confidence aside...

But, apparently, she was passing as one - in his eyes. Should she disabuse him of that notion? Would he be disillusioned if she told him he had it wrong? Would he lose interest? Or would it be worse if he found out later that she had willingly misrepresented herself? Then again, was she not misrepresenting herself anyway, however one looked at the situation?

Was she being very stupid, while she thought herself exceedingly clever?

"You battle with the sword, southern knight," she said in a low tone of voice as she shifted in her seat to lean forward on one forearm, her other hand holding aloft the cup of tea. She sipped it, slowly, looking at him over the rim of the cup as she did so. Before slowly, elegantly, lowering the cup to the table. "But, pray tell, how often do you engage in a battle of wills?" The question was posed quietly as her hand, now no longer holding the cup, moved for the fork he had acquired for her. "You ask more than one question, seeking information I already possess about you, Dauntless." For she already knew he was a nobleman from Belfalas, and that he was a knight - a warrior.

She backtracked then, returning to their impasse concerning their names. As if she were not planning on answering his other question, about what she did to occupy her days, until she had made some headway on this matter. "What if I do so like the sound of the name you have given me?" she asked with an inscrutable smile. "What if I like the way Torniel falls from your lips?" Her eyes rested on the aforementioned area longer than was appropriate, before lifting back to those grey pools. Little did he know that she could not offer him a name that held any higher value. Little did he know that she had no knowledge of her true name. Every name she bore had been given to her in a specific circle, later in life - or had been a name she had chosen to use in a specific circle, for a specific assignment. And she did not have an affinity for any of them. "What if I prefer it, to any others I may bear?" she added, her voice barely above a whisper that time, her brown gaze almost vulnerable - but for no longer than the time it required her to ask the question aloud, as the fork aimlessly moved around the small pieces of fruit in the bowl in front of her.

Her eyes lowered to the fruit then, and the fork stilled as soon as she realized what she was doing. Drawing in a slow breath, she resisted the urge to shrug and instead summoned back the smile she'd worn earlier. The fork neatly pierced a raspberry. Slowly made its way to her lips. Which parted just enough to allow the raspberry's entrance as she watched the knight's eyes with an expression that was almost taunting. She shifted her weight off her other arm, sliding her left hand partially toward him, stopping short just before it reached the middle of the table.

"Do you think of me as a noblewoman, Dauntless?" she began with a soft smile, having decided to entertain his other request. "I might be flattered if I did not know that they tend to be married off quickly. And..." She lifted her fingers in a small,wave-like moment. "No ring, as you can see. Which would either mean I am homely, or that my family has fallen into ruin financially or by reputation... or that I possess one of those rare men in the family who allow their womenfolk their freedom, should they choose it. And you and I both know the latter is very unlikely. So which option did you believe to be true?" she teased, waiting for his reaction before she decided to offer any more.

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen* @Pele Alarion**

Carpe Diem – Part 40



Unalmis Raxëlilta. With Cadil** and Ademar/the obnoxious Guard*
In the Guardhouse of the South Gate. The last day of Autumn (last year)

Whether it was a play on sudden gusto or simply a reaction to the Guard’s taunting, Cadil seemed to have become freshly determined .. to fight their way out. Unalmis duly handed over the rope and watched in silence as his friend began to knot the unlooped end. Random possibilities were turned over and discarded in his mind. Could they somehow get the bag over ‘Rip’s head ? He wasn’t sure he could see his accomplice going for that. It would likely mean abandoning the bag after all, then making a run for it .. and Cadil was as keen on running as a Dwarf. The other option, to lock the guard in his own gatehouse, or otherwise stop him from pursuing them by … no. They could not hurt him. That would be assault. He knew what happened if you assaulted a City Guard. Ranger or no. Narradir had served years in the dungeons after he got carried away in an altercation. Not that either of them was as physically capable of managing the damage that his father’s friend had. But still .. it would stand them in a whole lot more trouble than simply breaking a window ..

Backing up against the chair, he ignored the now familiar obstacle it struck against his legs and observed the ass outside stride past, as though he .. was he leaving ? He couldn’t leave. The gate was watched, all hours. It had to be manned. He couldn’t just leave them there .. he couldn’t just .. Panic took the young man to clamber outright onto the chair, and reach up with both hands to find the roof. If he stretched, he could press his finger tips against it. Even if he stretched as far as he could, there was no way he could rally enough force to try and break out that way. He needed … something. A hand flew to his boot, thinking even a damaged knife would be … no. No. Keep that from hand. This was only an idiot out there. It was only Rip .. The guard might care so little about protecting the city that he was literally supposed to safeguard that he let even Umbarians go through without a proper search .. while stopping them .. for absolutely nothing … but nonetheless ..


Trying to remind himself that their antagonist was not worth stabbing was only building up a want to do just that. Taking a deep breath, he tried to see what was on hand. What could they make use of .. ? But all that his mind could manage to offer up was why. Why and what was the Umbarian doing here ? Now ? Of all the chances … this was too much of a coincidence. It couldn’t mean anything. That was … over. Crazy. Nal considered asking Cadil if he could see where ‘Rip’ might have gone. But he wasn’t even sure any more that he wanted to know. It was ‘Rip’. It couldn’t be anything good. Instead he threw one palm flat against the solid wall. Fingers bent as they recoiled back into a fist and brown eyes closed.

This was so not how today had been supposed to go.

---

Dolûzor Solis, encountering Ademar Androillius
just now pulling up to the South gate in a stolen Harbour Guard Carriage.

The Umbarian had never been this far into enemy territory before now. He had been so proud when Captain Uhta had selected him … out of the entire crew .. to be his watchman at the Chandlery. Sure, the Tark Captain sent one of his own there too, especially when they were loading or unloading. But that meant company for the young corsair, who was else of a tendency to grow restless left on land.

It was not hard to locate the South Gate, the means of passage into the Pelennor and Minas Tirith proper … he simply followed the main road. Most of everyone he passed by were travelling in the opposite direction and though he got some glances … one man actually saluted to him in respect, the Umbarian sat up a little more straight at his seat. The uniform he’d found in the back was a perfect fit for him, and he began to imagine that Arkadhur had even wanted him to take this errand on. The older man was taller, and would certainly have looked rather less intimidating with the uniform’s full sleeves caught halfway up his forearms !

There had even been a crossbow under the coachman’s seat of the carriage. Dolûzor could not make himself put that back away, once he had found it. “Like my big strong bolt do you, wench ?” he muttered as an elderly woman ambled by, oblivious to the false guard’s pretense. “Want to see what I can do with it ? Yeh that's right. You'd better hurry on along ..”


The gate was in sight but not in reach when a figure made himself known by the roadside. Stalling the horses he could not help but think they both were fine beasts. He should sell them, if he had an inkling how to do so without the military that they belonged to finding out about it. Better focus on the stolen goods he was already supposed to handle.

“Hail comrade !” the Gondorian sang out, as though he’d been expecting a friend, and the Umbarian peered closer with narrowed brown eyes. It … was a friend ! Well, an ally at the very least.

“Hail back yourself !” Doluzor called back, brandishing his armed crossbow as the other man came up alongside the carriage. Laughing then, he laid it down on the seat beside him as he considered the man’s question. “You don’t know ?” he was surprised, and then .. panicked as he recalled a rumour. That Naluthor could project images of himself all about the place, to be in many places all at once. It was a dark power the whispers said. One born of the temple itself where the traitor was an acolyte. Was this the true man then, or one of his shadows ?

“Someone sent me up here to pick up some .. pretty piece of cargo that was .. confiscated. Apparently it’s wanted for examination back at the harbour.” He threw in the further detail, or lie, in fact, at the last minute to try and build upon a makeshift story. Still it was hard to miss how hopeful the Umbarian looked, as he sought through the growing gloom for any sign of a large store of young women who would make the journey back far more pleasurable. For him at the least.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Catch My Draft Inn, Late December

How often does he engage in a battle of wills? He shot her an amused look across the table, an eyebrow quirked at the query. ”Is not everything in life a battle of wills, when reduced to it’s barest form? The winter outside is cold, yet I was wilful enough to endure it to lay my eyes upon you.” He retorted with a playful grin and then shrugged at her next statement. ”A good place to start to find common ground.” He light explained the reasoning of his opening queries. And it seemed fair. Even the playing ground so to speak, whether this indeed was only play, or a battle.

If it was a battle, then he was presenting himself very openly and vulnerably. Maybe Abrazimir just didn’t see a serious threat or harm that could come from this. It was only a polite dalliance, as he assumed. This coyness was just a continuation of the masquerade dynamics. It was fun. If there was anyone he wanted to bash wills against, Torniel seemed just the type.

She demonstrated her own wit, adhering to the moniker of Torniel, rather than giving up any personal information. ”Well, it does have a certain…purr to it, we might say.” Abrazimir he responded with a grin. Like he might say it right then and there, with that delicious purr of the middle syllable. But that had to be earned, like anything about her. Alright then, keep your secrets, Torniel. Aptly named then. But he did not take it too greatly to heart. Probably in due course, all shall be revealed he figured. He was in no rush to prod too deeply. What if I prefer it, to any others I may bear? More than one, she implied? Intriguing. More secrets to unweave. He was starting to sense there were many about her.

Setting his elbow upon the table’s edge, he leaned forward to balance his face and jaw upon his hand, peering at her more pointedly. His other hand clasped the handle of his mug. He opened his mouth to give a rejoinder to her query, until she plucked up a proffered raspberry with the fork, guiding it to her mouth with such a tantalizing display. How could something so simple as consuming a berry be made so sensual by this woman? Her hand stretched out towards her, as if welcoming him to enter into this artful portrait of beauty. His hand left his mug, twitching to reach out for her own, but it paused when her own hand stopped.

And she asked a follow-up to the nature of his line of questioning. Did he think her a noblewoman? The very question all but said…she must not be. Why be vague about it? Her following remarks further implied so. Unmarried, at her age, with guesses as to why, traditional or progressive. He just smiled as Torniel broke it down for him. Oof, what a philosophical conundrum! This required a little restructuring. He achieved as much by piquing his eyebrows in appreciation of her presented predicament and then raised his mug to drink from, taking three good gulps before setting it back down. He sat back up straighter, both hands circling around the mug, facing her on. With the same grin, as always.

”You are taking me to school.” He conceded playfully. He took the risk to decide neither of her options were probably true. ”I did believe that about you, yes. You carry yourself like a noblewoman. If not in rank than in presentation. A most impressive one, I might add.” Abrazimir said, returning to his roots a moment, presenting her a compliment, and sipping again from his mug in toast of his words about her. His eyes once more gave her a once-over, at least of the upper half of her that he could see. She seemed so far away. Why? ”Believe me now, I am quite disabused of that notion, though it is not an unwelcome surprise. Only makes things more interesting.” He said with a teasing quirk of his eyebrow.

”So then, you guessed at my origins, and it was a very good guess I might add. Not that I’ve done much to hide where I’m from, if one is educated or knowledgeable to notice these differences between us Gondorians.” Abrazimir stated further, recognizing she had a certain intelligence to her. ”I’d like to try my hand at this, if I might.” He said, looking at her a moment with a broad smile and discerning eyes. ”I’d wager…, from your manner of speech, you come from the vales of the Great River, Harlond to the Mouths possibly. Where such living has made you hardy and witty. And sassy. Would I be closer to your mark?”

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

Torniel
Catch My Draft Inn, in the east of the Lossarnach region
Late December

Pleased about his response that he had enough determination to face the cold to spend time with her, Torniel smiled at him as he teased her by claiming he could make the name he'd given her purr, and then pointedly chose not to. Oh, yes. He had come to play. Combined with his banter and teasing remarks... How wonderful this was turning out to be!

She listened attentively to his words, noting which words he punctuated and how. Noting his guesses. She hummed, thoughtful, as she shrugged just so, and part of her shawl slipped, revealing one shoulder - suddenly so bare, so fair, compared to the rich green fabric that covered the rest of the skin her expensive dress would otherwise put on display.

"It is one thing to measure your will against something that does not have a will of its own," she said softly, looking him in the eyes. "It is another entirely to take your willpower to battle someone else's." Her upper teeth grazed her bottom lip as she smiled. It only took a second. "However, I will make a concession to you, Dauntless. Because I want to."

"I will confirm that I am, indeed, not of the nobility. As well as relieved that does not seem to make you flee. As for where I am from, I could not tell you," she told him. "My parents died when I was too young to cling to any memories, Dauntless. I was taken in by someone with no blood relation to me at all, who did not know them. However, you are correct that I have spent much time in Harlond. Yet I have also spent much time in Lossarnach and parts of Lamedon. Lebennin... less so. You are on the mark about my wit and sass, of course," she added, tilted her head a little as she smiled, presenting him with an even more alluring angle of her lovely facial features, and lightly brushing the fingertips of one hand against her now bare shoulder. "You must not fear I hail from Pelargir," she almost whispered, teasingly. "If you must choose a class for me... My guardian is a businessman, and he has raised me to excel in several aspects of merchantry." She paused, looking at his hands, curled around his mug. While they brought the cheesy bread the knight had asked for, Torniel remained silent and sipped her tea. Once the server had gone, however, she asked: "Does that deter you? To know that I have earned the money that have bought the clothes I wear? That I have earned the money with which I bought my horse, the reins, its saddle? Through negotiating good business deals?"

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie @Pele Alarion

Carpe Diem

Ademar Androllius (wearing uniform of Lt. of the Guard)
Pelennor - Southern Gate (With Dolûzor) - Last day of Autumn Fayre (last year)

“Someone sent me up here to pick up some .. pretty piece of cargo that was .. confiscated..."

At these words, Mar raised an eyebrow. Now that the man spoke, now that he could see his face better, he did recognize him. One of Uhta's men, if he was right. He was hard pressed not to grin at this good fortune. And yet, he couldn't help a little snicker. "Ah, yes. The cargo. I wouldn't call it 'pretty', but you can judge that for yourself." He shrugged, then glanced around carefully. He could still see the guardhouse from here, thanks to some lanterns hanging on the outer wall, but he guessed that he would be difficult to see in the dusky light.

"They're in the guardhouse," The false guard informed Dolûzor, lowering his voice a bit so it wouldn't carry. "And they're for the temple," He added, with a serious look to make sure the man understood how important this was. Because you did not want to upset the priest of the temple. He considered the options briefly, pleased to note that the man had 'borrowed' a wagon of the Harlond Guard, specifically designed for the purpose of transporting prisoners. Perfect. After a brief discussion with the other phony guard, they arrived at a plan. "They mustn't have any chances to escape," Mar added. "And we'd better hurry.." he cast a glance around. "My relief should arrive soon. And you never know when a traveler may pass through..."

As for how he would explain all of this.. Mar had been thinking about that a great deal while he was waiting. He was, in fact, relieved that someone had come to aid him in taking the two idiots away, since he hadn't been quite sure how to manage it on his own. Now, he could easily make up some charges against them, something that the Harlond Harbor Guard could get involved in. He could falsify reports to show that they were transferred into the Harbor Guard's custody, and then falsify more reports from them to show that the prisoners managed to escape en route.. when in reality, of course, they would have been turned over to a ship bound for Umbar. It was perfect. No one would find them, and they'd be considered criminals.

The only question was.. what crimes could he make up against them? As they had both so frequently pointed out.. they had done nothing worth being detained for. Not really. But the three of them were the only ones who knew that, and it would be Lieutenant Androllius' word against.. no one's. Because they'd never have a chance to protest the charges. Yet.. there was the matter of their families. He had no idea about the other guy.. in fact, he didn't even remember if he'd heard the guy's name, let alone whether he had a family. But he was aware that Unalmis had a father still who would surely look into the matter. So, whatever he came up with, he'd have to make sure that it would be something their families would be able to accept.

All sorts of ideas had gone through his head, from accusing them of assaulting a lieutenant of the guard, to claiming they were caught trying to vandalize the wall, or even trying to smuggle illegal goods through the gate.. but he dismissed those ideas because he figured Nal's father would never believe such nonsense. It had to fit with something he might actually do. And then, it came to him. He would claim that Nal and his friend had been caught aiding a pirate in escaping capture, hiding him from the guards, trying to smuggle him past the gate, or something of the sort.. and that he'd even gone as far as to fight against the guards in defense of this criminal... Trevadir Thormaetha. Anyone who knew Nal would know what good friends he and Trev were, so they wouldn't question it to hear that he had gone too far in trying to help his friend.

Now, all that remained was to get them locked into the wagon, which would then bring them to the Chandlery, where the two would be well outnumbered by the rest of Dolûzor's crew. From that point, all Mar had to worry about was making sure all the reports were created to show the false story of what happened, to effectively make them both 'disappear'. He'd done it before, so he could certainly do it again. And then he would make sure that all the other loose ends were neatly tied up and tucked away so none of the story could be unraveled. He motioned for Dolûzor to bring the wagon up to the guardhouse. This was where things could get tricky.

Approaching the window, he tapped it with the back of his armored hand. "Well, looks like you two are in luck." He informed the occupants inside. "You wanted more guards, to stand as witnesses," He reminded them. "Well, one has come. You're to go with him, and he'll take your statements and any complaints you wish to make." He advised them. "I wouldn't recommend causing any more trouble, either." He added with narrowed eyes, as he prepared to unlock the door and help Dolûzor herd them into the back of the wagon.

---

@Ercassie

Carpe Diem
Some members of Dev's crew
Inside the Chandlery
Last day of Autumn Fayre (last year)[/i]

No sooner had Nik finished his statement about the bet and why he remembered the girl, than a quiet noise indicated that the display table had moved aside. By lucky coincidence, Nik had the girl facing so she could not actually see this, and he thought perhaps he ought to put something over her head to keep her from seeing. Because, while he had no intention of letting her escape, he also didn't think Dev would appreciate them taking chances. If she did somehow manage an escape, they certainly wouldn't want her being able to see how they managed to get down below!

Panting from climbing the long, narrow flight of stairs, Rurik finally emerged into the room. He had paused to catch his breath at each landing. Being a rather large guy, he was not very favorable to having to make such a climb. There had better be a good reason for it, too! However, as soon as his head came through the opening where there had once been a display stand of candles, the pirate took in the sight. Nik had a girl next to him! And there was someone else there, too. Still catching his breath a bit, Rurik frowned as he climbed out of the hole and took a long look at Ark, then at the girl, eyeing her up and down. "What's going on here?" He asked, letting his eyes linger on the prettier of their 'guests' far longer than was probably comfortable to her.

"We got some cargo," Nik informed him with a grin. "This'n, and another, there." He nodded to the barrel containing the other, unconscious girl. "And more to come. Dol's gone to fetch the rest of 'em." He looked at Ark. "How many more should we expect, anyway?"

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

Trevadir Thôrmaetha
The Siren's Embrace - Harlond
Spring of this year, at ‘The Siren’s Embrace’ Inn, in Harlond.
(wrapping up in response to this post)

The sound of a sword being drawn, just behind him, stopped Samroth in his tracks. Just when he was about to finish of the stupid kid, too! He turned just enough to observe the sword pointed at his neck, and the man behind it. "This ain't non'ya business," He grumbled, but his attention quickly switched to the.. was that an elf? who arose from his chair and then flung the flute out of the window. Actually, through the window.

Trev was still trying to recover his breath, and stared in disbelief at what was unfolding before his eyes. The sword.. it couldn't be! Maybe, he could convince the guy to go and talk to Nal and... but no, that wasn't the man to whom Trev had surrendered the great sword... in fact, when his gaze switched to the face of the man, rather than the weapon in his hand, Trev realized that while it was not the man he had first thought it was, he did know who he was. And it was about the last person Trev would have expected to see in a place like this. Nardy!? But.. what? Why..?

Before Trev could even process that shock well enough to try and attempt finding an explanation for what the rigidly rule-abiding cousin of his friend was doing in a lawless sort of establishment like this, the occupant of the table that Trev had crashed into.. suddenly proved to be an ally. Or something like that? At first, he thought the guy was offering Trev's flute to him, as would have been kind of him. Another quality that would be surprising to find in most of this place's patrons. But instead, the cherished instrument was then flung, swifter than Trev could snatch it, far out of his reach. Trev's instinctive cry of protest was drowned out by the sound of more shattering glass.

With his lungs still painfully trying to recover the air that had been forced out of them, Trev felt as if he moved more slowly than he would have liked in gaining his feet, but he somehow found the means to swiftly move himself out of the way when the elf.. for it was an elf! ..produced a rather scary-looking ax and actually chopped the table in half with one blow, as if it were no more than a flimsy piece of kindling! Eyes widening at this, Trev backed away, his gaze darting from Nardy, to Samroth, and then to the unknown elf. Who looked.. quite a bit scarier than Samroth, suddenly. Was he actually helping Trev? He wasn't even sure.. but seeing that Samroth was properly occupied with the other two, Trev thought of his flute. He had to recover it.. before someone else decided to take it over. While hastening toward the door, Trev was abruptly intercepted from his goal.

"You!" Mr. Adger, the owner of the Siren, suddenly blocked Trev's path, looking quite upset. "Where do you think you're going?!" He demanded.

Trev froze, resisting the urge to glance back toward the others to see if Samroth's attention had been drawn to him. "I.."

"In my office, now." Mr. Adger grabbed Trev's arm and marched him there, as if Trev were a naughty child who'd been caught by the teacher doing something he shouldn't. Actually, the man was not willing to confront the two who had stepped up to defend Trev, and therefore glad for an excuse to avoid that if he could help it.

As for Trev, he was so relieved to be going to another place besides the common room of the tavern.. he didn't protest or resist at all. And therefore, he missed what happened out there, after that point. Only once the door of the office had closed behind them, did Trev pivot his arm and slip out of the tavern-keeper's grasp with ease. Just to let him know that he could. "What?" Trev folded his arms, frowning as he faced his employer.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, flute boy." The guy glared as he walked behind his desk and faced Trev. "That fight out there is your doing, isn't it? That's what Hayes says, anyway, and the girls backed him up." In fact, the man was not really willing to intervene. The elf looked rather unnerving, and he certainly didn't want to be on the receiving end of his ax.

Trev huffed incredulously. The bartender had witnessed it all, yet he was claiming it was all Trev's fault? He shouldn't be surprised.. nor should he be surprised that the girls who served the drinks would agree with him. "Oh yeah, I was so hoping some guy would come in here and try and kill me today," He retorted, rolling his eyes. Then, sighing, he told himself to calm down. "No, Mr. Adger, I was just minding my own business, playing music like you've hired me to do, and that guy started picking a fight, and he wouldn't leave me alone. He attacked me for no reason. I did nothing to provoke it, I swear." Nothing today, anyway, but he didn't add that out loud.

"I don't care." The man replied curtly. "I really don't care who started it, or why. I've got enough people causing trouble around here without my own employees bringing their own trouble in here. Hayes says the guy had a personal grudge against you. As far as I'm concerned, that makes the whole thing your fault." He declared, his voice stern. "And now.. I don't even know how much these damages are going to cost to fix." He grumbled, throwing his hands up in despair, then froze with a glance cast toward the door when a scream of pain could be heard from the common room.

Trev turned and stared at the door, feeling a little chill as he wondered what was happening.. then decided he didn't quite want to know. It sounded like Samroth, not one of the other two, and so he felt some reassurance that things had not gone against Nardy and his friend.

Mr. Adger cleared his throat and continued. "I can tell you this though," He added, focusing on Trev with narrowed eyes. "It'll be you paying for it. All of it."

"What? That isn't fair!" Trev protested, frowning. "Why not make Samroth pay? He's the one who picked the fight."

"Because I said so!" He retorted. "You work for me. If you don't like the terms, you can find another job... which, I have to say.. will be near impossible for you." He pointed out. "I'll make sure no one else is foolish enough to hire you for any job in this town.. And speaking of, if anything like this happens again, you're done working for me. Is that clear?"

Trev went quiet at that, a little stunned. That definitely didn't seem fair. If someone started a fight, he'd automatically get blamed for it? And be fired? And he'd spread lies or something to make sure Trev couldn't get any other job? He sat in quiet fury for a moment as he processed this, realizing what it meant. He had to keep this job, because he wouldn't be able to get any other, after this. "Yes sir." He answered through his teeth, struggling not to sound as angry as he felt.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Mr. Adger sighed, then got up and went to see who it was. One of the serving girls stood there, a little wide-eyed. "The men have gone," She reported, sounding slightly shaken. "The.. two with weapons left without paying their bill, sir. And the other.. he's been injured." She said, looking a bit pale. "His hand.. it looks.. bad."

Mr. Adger frowned, peering past her through the open doorway, taking a moment to think.

Slightly disappointed that he could not thank Nardy for what he'd done, Trev turned and looked past the other two at what he could see of the room. He blinked at the commotion that met his eyes. Samroth was still there.. and someone was wrapping rags around his hand, while he ranted angrily in some dialect of Harad. He could be heard even in here, now that the door was open. Trev only understood about a third of it, as he'd become somewhat familiar with hearing him, while stuck on Dev's ship with the man. But what he heard, he did not like.

"Thank you, Sally," Adger sighed, dismissing her. He closed the door and turned back to Trev. "It's going to take you a long time to pay all this off." Mr. Adger mentioned as he returned to his seat, taking up a pen and ink.

"Of course." Trev answered dryly. He'd expected nothing less, by this point. "How much is it going to cost me?" He held back a sigh of despair.

"I'll have to have the damages appraised, first." The man sighed. "I'll let you know, when I know. There's the table, the window.. that'll be pricey.. several dozen glasses, a few chairs, not to mention everything your 'friends' neglected to pay for..." He added with a frown.

"They didn't pay?" Trev repeated, quite surprised by that. Knowing Nardy, he almost couldn't believe it. But then, maybe with all the commotion, it had slipped his mind or something... but still. That seemed unlike him.

"No," Mr Adger replied. "and they had quite a large meal, several drinks, and they'd reserved a room. Each. And they made use of the stable as well.. hay and grain for two horses, plus boarding for the night.. yes, there's quite a few charges on their bill which they left unpaid." He lied. It wasn't like Trev would know the difference, after all...

Trev sank into the chair with a frown. "But they left." He pointed out. "How can you charge them for a room and horse boarding.."

"They had already spent one night here. And they had breakfast here. And their supper last night." Mr. Adger retorted impatiently. "I'll figure up how much you owe me, and we'll work something out, alright? I'll take a percentage out of your weekly pay, until it's all caught up. Alright?"

Trev stared at him, feeling rather suspicious about this arrangement, as well as the claim that Nardy and his friend had stayed here overnight. Trev hadn't seen them here... and he felt sure that if they'd stayed here that long, he would have seen them for sure. Something wasn't right about this. "I'd rather know exactly how much you expect me to pay, and then I will pay however much I can, out of my weekly pay. I have to be able to eat, too, you know.." He replied, having a strong feeling the man was lying, although he couldn't be certain. Still.. having lived with Dev for the last several years, he'd developed better senses to tell when someone was lying or trying to cheat or manipulate him.

"You work for me, Trev. We'll do this the way I say." Mr. Adger insisted. "I'll write you up a bill, you can be sure of that." He added, standing up. "You'll get your meals, don't worry. But you can also be sure that if another incident like this occurs again, not only will you no longer have a job, but I have the right to claim any possessions left in your room, which I will then sell, to cover the cost of any damages done to my establishment. Understood?"

Trev hesitated. "I'm not sure you have the right to-" He started saying, frowning.

"Do you want to take it up with the guards?" The man sneered, quite confident that the young man wouldn't dare.

Swallowing down his nervousness, Trev realized he had little choice but to accept his employer's terms, despite how uneasy it made him. Unless he wished to consult with the guards, who were sure to lock him up for crimes he hadn't committed. Or go to another town looking for a job. And he preferred to stay where he could at least see his 'home' from afar. And here, he had a slim chance of maybe seeing his friends again someday. Perhaps, even his family. "There won't be any more incidents." Trev assured him quietly, hoping he was right. "I'll do my absolute best to make sure of it, I promise."

"Good. Now get out of here, and don't start any more trouble in my tavern."

Trev frowned, wanting to point out that he was not the one who had started the trouble. But he didn't, recalling that he still had not managed to recover his flute. "Fine." He stood up and scowled before leaving the office, struggling with his temper. This was an outrage, but how could he protest it? He strode toward the door, determined this time that no one was going to stop him from getting outside and retrieving his precious flute.

Meanwhile, Mr. Adger smirked to himself as the door closed behind the boy. He began making up a list of everything he could get by with putting on the bill.. enough to keep Trev in debt for a very long time. Long enough to keep him working here until Adger no longer needed to keep up with where he was. He expected Captain Dev to come along sometime around June or July, and he knew the captain would be very interested in knowing where to find his prodigal son. And Adger intended to be paid well for helping the other man get his crew member back. Just as he got paid to help him obtain other new crew members, when necessary.

---

Outside, Trev frantically searched along the area of sidewalk littered with colorful glass shards, and grew panicked when he did not see his flute anywhere. Had someone already taken it? What if someone had seen it lying there and decided to take it over, while he was stuck in the office with that swindler? What if someone had seen the elf throw it outside, and went to retrieve it before Trev could? Growing desperate, Trev widened his search, and finally caught sight of where it had rolled to a stop on the far side of the street. No sooner had he spotted it, than a passing stranger accidentally kicked it while walking along the street, not seeing it until his foot made contact and sent it spinning away toward the docks. Trev's heart leaped in alarm as he somehow found a burst of energy to race after his beloved possession as it went skittering across the nearest pier. He hastily lunged downward with an outstretched arm to catch it just before it would have fallen in the water, his heart beating wildly at the thought of how close he'd come to losing it.

Wincing as he rolled onto his back, taking slow, painful breaths. Ouch, Samroth had kicked him hard, and he expected it would be bruised for a few days after this. And this latest maneuver hadn't helped matters, either. But he had his flute safely in hand, and he was alive. That was really what mattered most to him, at this moment. After a moment, he sat up and glanced around himself, suddenly aware of how exposed he was, sitting here on the docks. While he couldn't see Dev's ship in port anywhere, he rather doubted that Samroth had taken up with an honest crew after taking his leave from Dev. And if there was one pirate around, there were probably others.

Gripping his flute tight in one hand, Trev glanced around warily as he started making his way back across the street, thinking he might take shelter in the darkness of the alley beside the tavern, which his room's window overlooked. At that moment however, the door of the tavern opened, casting a distorted, stretched out rectangle of light onto the dark street, only briefly obscured by the emergence of someone. It could be Samroth, Trev thought, deciding it best to withdraw into the nearby shadow cast by the harbor office, holding his breath as he waited. A man emerged, drunkenly staggering. It was too dark to tell if he was familiar to Trev or not, but his eyes followed the man's progress, noting the direction he went. Was he heading for the chandlery? He could be moving past it to something beyond, but there wasn't very much to be found that way. Still, Trev decided he had definitely been involved in too much trouble for one night. And that guy was definitely not Samroth, which meant the big guy was still in there. He didn't want to risk another confrontation with him.

Trev was about to start off again, still intending to head for the alley under his window, when a slight shift of movement caught his eye from the depths of its darkness. He stared at the alley's opening, feeling chill bumps rise up on his arms. Someone was in there, lurking. He couldn't make out anything else, but he'd seen someone moving there, withdrawing deeper into the shadows. As if waiting for Trev to go within his reach. He suddenly did not want to be outside anymore, and he wasn't about to go into that alley. Instead, Trev hastened across the street and was relieved to make it back into the Siren's common room without being intercepted or abducted or waylaid in any way. Without wasting a moment to even glance around the room, he a beeline made for the hallway leading to the rooms, and climbed the stairs hastily to get to the upper floor. At the top, he hesitated and approached his own room more cautiously, pressing his ear to the door for a moment.

Drawing his dagger at last, from where he'd had it strapped to his leg under his trouser leg, Trev held it and his flute separately, so that he had a weapon in each hand as he entered his room, looking behind the door, and peeked under the bed. There were no other places to hide, so the next thing he did was go to the window and looked out. The alley was empty now, as far as he could tell. Of course, it was dark, so he couldn't be certain, but he felt sure that whoever he'd seen lurking in there must have gone away by now. Trev wasn't sure whether to feel relieved by this, or more uneasy. Sheathing his dagger inside of the flute, he secured them together and went over and locked the door to prevent anyone from just walking in. After putting his flute away in his jacket pocket, the young musician then pushed open the window and looked out a bit more thoroughly. All was quiet. He took that for a good sign.

Feeling the need to be alone and have some quiet time for reflection, Trev carefully climbed out onto the ledge, then nimbly climbed up the wall made of uneven stone, until he pulled himself onto the roof. He let out a sigh as he situated himself in a familiar spot, in such a way that he was turned to face the distant White City, looking out across at what could be seen of it from here. Trev leaned his back against the chimney and folded his arms over his chest, tilting his head back so that he could look up at the stars. How he missed.. everyone. Everything that they used to do together. Fishing on the riverbank, hanging out in the treehouse, camping in the Pelennor. All of it. Now, when he looked at the stars, his thoughts mingled with those fond memories of times spent with his friends, and other memories of learning how to navigate by the stars. One of the few useful things Dev and the other shipmates had taught him.

Trev closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. How was it he'd ended up working at this miserable place, anyway? They could turn up here at any time. Or others, worse still. He'd been fortunate, tonight. But what if next time, he wasn't? What if Dev showed up with a whole bunch of his men and physically dragged Trev away with them? He felt his shoulders sag, knowing it had been a stupid move on his part to get a job here, but at the time, it had seemed better than any other option. He was starting to doubt that, now. But now.. now he was going to be in so much debt to Adger, he didn't know if he'd ever be able to get out of it. Trev swallowed, knowing he was going to need some help from someone, if he ever hoped to improve his situation. But all his friends were off in Minas Tirith.. oblivious to his predicament, just like before. And they were not likely to risk coming back out to Harlond. He could understand the girls, of course.. and also Nal, but he also wondered.. would he even bother to come, if he did know?

Then there was the two who'd saved him tonight. He didn't know who the elf guy was, but Nardy might have helped him, maybe, if Trev had had a chance to talk to him and let him know. But he was gone now. There was very little hope that anyone else would be able or willing to help Trev, and yet, he opened his eyes and looked up at the stars. "I need someone to help me, please." He whispered, unsure if the Valar would even hear or not, but it seemed like the only hope he had. Maybe someone would help him, against all odds. He had to cling to some small glimmer of hope, no matter what. As Ryn used to say, no matter how bad things get, they could always turn around and turn out for good. Especially when you least expect it. And Ryn was always right. Right?


(This concludes a RP that was set a few months before another, which involved Macardil and Trev's meeting)

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen*

Carpe Diem – Part 41



Iole Ishen and Arkadhur Halsad, at the Chandlery
with Nikulas, Rurik* and an unconscious Cali)
On the last day of Autumn Festival, last year.

Iole had fallen back to silence as soon as the third man came back through the door. Lowendir, if that was even really his name. Sure that she could convince him to dismiss any thought of her escaping, she had set her mind to biding time. Tears, swooning, signs of weakness .. men expected these things from her gender. She was happy to oblige and the sound of Cali paying for her more aggressive protest caused the distress to present for real. By then she was helpless to do anything but commit to the role she’d chosen. But now a motionless and limp version of her friend was suddenly all too evidently glimpsed within the other barrel. Iole swallowed hard, to keep from trying to scramble over to her friend. Even the men seemed unhappy with the state the other girl was in.

The slighter young woman had not managed to untie her wrists but since they were in front of her, it had seemed foolish to not pull and spit the bonnet serving as a gag out of her mouth. Still fear held her dumb for the time being. Shock took her the rest of the way to stunned. She had been hauled upright, a barrel still about her as though it were some unflattering skirt. And three men were talking on as though she were not even able to understand them. Were they dull minded ? Did they think she was ? Perhaps that would not be the worst thing ..


As they conversed … conversed ? Quarrelled almost, was more like it, she could not help but recall that Lowendir had said he would let them go when he had got through the gate. Well, they were on the other side. So why wasn’t he letting them go ? And then she corrected herself and wished she hadn’t. He had said he would ‘have no further use for them’ once they got through the gate. But it seemed these other men had some ideas of what use the girls could prove, to them. Their eyes told their intentions and a pressing memory of being passed about with a knot of heavy set, sweaty pirates threatened to overwhelm her entirely. But perhaps her head was still spinning from whatever she had drunk at the festival. And it didn’t help that the nearest brute decided to ‘help’ her without any warning, out from the barrel. His efforts were not gentle and she brought her hands up before her face with a small shriek, as though that might do anything to ward him off, if he tried anything further. Her feet were wet, she could not help but notice. As though that was the greatest concern. Her toes felt cold. Her shoes would be ruined, for sure.

Thankfully their captor did not seem at all alert on watching for them, and this would have been the perfect moment to run, when the men would not have been expecting it. But Cali, .. Iole decided that it was only her friend and not terror itself which was keeping her from trying .. anything ... And then he mentioned … Dev … She knew that name. She knew of a pirate by that name … and as Nikolas told his own tale this time, the young woman he’d once troubled before recognised .. not only Arkadhur. The closest man was one of Devedir’s crew. Which meant … her heart rose in her chest at the revelation … the last time she had seen these men, Trevadir had been with them. Quietly, calm and keeping away from any act that would antagonise these foes, Iole began to prepare herself, for when she might realise what she should do. It hadn’t happened yet, but last time …. This time, she decided, she would not leave any of her friends behind.


Keeping her head bowed, dark and now rather tangled hair began to tumble as though a curtain to veil her intrigue. Wide blue eyes peered through the dark shroud of tresses without being obvious what she was doing. They were inside, she observed, only now realising the change for, admittedly it was evening now outside. The windows were boarded but there were slivers of space which they did not quite cover. It was dim lit though, inside as much as what she could see of outside. Ironically there looked to be an entire shelf of candles against one wall, exhibiting all manner of size and shape. Some in lanterns … none of them lit.

There was some debate about stairs which she could not make sense of. Were these men meant to be upstairs ? But they thought it was too long a climb .. ? Were there more stairs beyond those she could see extending upward ? She was glad when, even though Lowendir had returned, now it seemed that the younger man was leaving in his place. They were still outnumbered of course, and Cali was either doing a far better job at ‘playing dead’ than she had, or her friend had really passed out. Ironic, if inconvenient. Though at least it meant that defiance would not meet any more mean retribution. Strangely a further .. fourth man .. although there were only three of them again now, appeared out of nowhere, Iole staggered where she stood, confused as a massive arm stemmed out at either side of her.


“You killed her ..” she accused Lowendir, though clearly bordering upon hysterics, gasping for small breaths around the sobs. She was hoping for the denial, the proof that her friend was alright. “You hurt a defenceless girl. You must be so proud of yourself !”

“Didn’t I say .. quiet ?” ’Lowendir’ reminded her. “Your friend isn’t dead. She’s wilful,” he warned the two pirates. “And she learned the hard way. Brought it entirely upon herself.” Iole's want to ask, to demand, whether they had brought being abducted, and intimidated upon themselves .. dissolved, with an impressive whimper as Nikolas referred to them as ‘cargo’.


“A house full, as I understood it,”Arkadhur answered the question of ‘how many were to come’, and watched for the mens’ reactions to that. A gatehouse was a house after all, and how were they to know there was not cause to make all sorts of preparations that would keep them busy here for some considerable time ? Honestly, he had no clue quite what or who the false guard had been insinuating was locked in his gatehouse. Probably the snivelling annoying widow of the real Lowendir. No, there was no way he was stupid enough to go back and give the Gondorian time to call reinforcements to arrest him for that. The woman would recognise him, accuse him, for sure. No, let Doluzor take a stolen Harbour Guard carriage and uniform into that ambush, and see both of the fools at the gate answer for it. He knew Doluzor. The man would give up everything he knew about the so called Guard of Gondor in a heartbeat if it meant saving himself. That’s if he wasn’t smart enough to employ the false tooth manouvre that all of Uhta’s men were granted, as an option. Either way, his enemy would get what he deserved and he would take none of the blame for it.

“If neither one of you are willing to take your lazy asses up a set of stairs, I guess I’d better go and stand look out myself,” Arkadhur rolled his eyes. “This ..” he waved a hand from one girl to the other, “is all yours now, along with anything else that come back from the Gate.”

There’d be no warning, not if they thought he was up there and they could ‘deal’ with the distractions down here meanwhile. He could easily get out of the window and take out over the roof and watch the entire thing play out from a place where he would not be caught up in it. Perfect.

---

@Pele Alarion**

Dolûzor Solis, and Unalmis Raxëlilta.
With Cadil** and Ademar/Naluthor/the obnoxious Guard*
In the Guardhouse of the South Gate. The last day of Autumn (last year)

If there had been any doubt in the Umbarian’s mind, whether this was truly Naluthor, it vanished when the Guard put together words like ‘cargo’ with ‘they’, and most importantly ‘temple’. Unsure whether the other man was suggesting then that the girls awaiting him were not in fact as appealing as the two he had already seen in Harlond .. or whether it was simply unwise to consider them so. For if they were for the temple, then no harm must come to them. But wait, the one already back at the chandlery had been pretty messed up. Maybe they could keep one .. for their troubles. Keket didn’t have to know, and if he found out, they could tell him straight that it was Arkadhur who’d done that. As far as he understood it, the ‘Puppeteer’ wanted to have a word or two with his former minion already.

As Naluthor outlined his thinking and the two of them arrived on a plan, if anybody asked they would say the prisoners .. who he was disappointed to discover were two young men .. had stolen the Harbour guard’s wagon themselves. Or something. “The Harbour Guard will already be reporting it without you having to do anything but fill in the blanks of perpetrators who ‘some witness’” he tapped a curled fingered fist against his own puffed out chest, with an absurd show of pride, “told you that he saw taking the thing. I can describe them with absolute clarity, officer,” he smirked back at the expert of that expression. “Then if they say I am in on it with you, it will sound like they’re just hurling verbal mud at people they want to discredit. I’ve drunk in inns with the Harbour Guards before now. I’m sleeping with one of their wives, another’s daughter, as it turns out. They're not exactly full of the smarts. They'll believe it.” While the news of his local conquests was not exactly relevant, the young corsair could not help but share it regardless.

The Temple’s acolyte had his own ideas for suggesting to the city quite why these two ‘criminals’ would have done such a thing, .. but since the man did not share, Dol knew better than to ask. That sort of things was above his pay grade for sure. Let the paper pushers sort out all the specifics and tidy up after the excitement.


“That’s why they sent me,” he let the other man know, when the Gondorian fretted about his precious prisoners escaping. “Not a one has ever escaped me,” The young Umbarian puffed up his chest, proudly, entirely foregoing the fact that he’d never even been trusted with the responsibility of prisoners before. Now drawing the wagon over to where it would work best, he waited for Naluthor to poke his people into place.



When ‘Rip’ tapped on the window, Unalmis stepped slowly down from the seat of the chair he had been standing on, and readied to assist Cadil with whatever sort of charge became necessary. He was as anxious about what to expect from the bully as he was eager to be out of the gatehouse.

The liar’s explanation however was surprising, and some of the adrenaline coursing through the young Ranger began to dampen. Was the brute being .. professional ? Calm in fact .. The reason soon became clear. Other guards were out there. And ‘Rip’ was playing as though he was nothing of what they knew him to be. Not in front of such an audience. Who was it ? Was it one of the guards he knew, one who might have worked with his Uncle back in the day ?


Dolûzor had backed the wagon up so that the opened gatehouse door blocked off any other exit on one side of the wagon, and the wagon’s own door, unlocked and swung open, covered the other side of the gatehouse. Since the wagon opened at the back, the ‘cargo’ were presented with a clear path, bordered on both sides, that led straight into the back of their waiting transportation. Dropping down from his seat, the corsair could not help but come in for a closer view, and was disappointed. Definitely not a cargo full of pretty girls.

“This is a Harbour Guard wagon,” Nal hesitated, clutching Cadil by the arm to stall him too, as he narrowed eyes at the colours of both the wagon and the guard’s uniform, which gave their creed away to any informed onlooker. “Why .. ?”

“The White City’s shorthanded, because of the festival up there,” Dolûzor put in, swiftly, and held up his loaded crossbow, just in case they did not believe him. “That's why they sent me. I’m doing a favour here though. So do please hurry up.”


Keen Umbarian eyes considered the two young men, and glanced back toward Naluthor to be alert of all pieces on the board here. “Climb on in, and give up your name as you do, that's good lads,” he summoned his most authoritative voice and tried very hard to keep from smiling. “We’re doing this all above board and by the book.” Yes, it was extremely difficult to not grin his head off. But the stakes remained yet very very high !

[Pele Alarion]

@Ercassie , @Rillewen
Cadil
Guardhouse at the South Gate

Eventually satisfied with whatever strange weaving he had done with the rope, Cadil tried to see out the window again, and then glanced up at Nal now towering above him. "Now, if the roof was open. Then we could fly, no?" he asked in an attempt to keep up some sort of humour. "Can you spot any possible ideas from up there?" Yet it did not take long for a different way to get out. Another guard, apparently.

He expected that they would be let out and interviewed, but the door did not open towards freedom but rather the only option was to step into the wagon.

"If this is not fishy," Cadil murmured to his friend who had a hold on his arm. Not that he was all too eager to jump into that wagon, not without his luggage. Besides, the guardhouse suddenly seemed more welcoming than the wagon. Why they were treated as if they were dangerous criminals? He squinted at the crossbow the other man wielded. Besides, how did this new guard know to come here, had Rip sent someone with a report? Cadil had thought he had not had any such intentions.

"This is not the proper protocol!" he therefore said, speaking louder just in case someone would happen to be outside and overhear him. "We are no criminals to be taken to dungeons by force!"

Wait. If this was Harbour Guard, would he not take them to Harlond rather than to Minas Tirith proper? He turned towards Unalmis, eyebrow raised questioningly. Definitely suspicious.

[Lantaelen]

@Arnyn

Lord Abrazimir Dimaethor
Catch My Draft Inn, Late December

It is one thing to measure your will against something that does not have a will of its own…

His sea-grey eyes were sharp for a moment as he regarded her, wearing a pleasant smile. She was either a learned philosopher or had a lot of worldly experience, both of which seemed to tickle him in curious ways. Certainly worldly enough to have accepted his advances back at the masquerade. And not be shamed or scandalized by spending an evening stroll with him then. He thought about countering her with his own learning from his upbringing, how even the wind or the weather had it’s foundation in the wills of the Powers That Be. The Valar. But he’d rather not draw Their gazes and hearing hither. This was private. This was his moment.

But if They were watching, or listening, they seemed to give a favourable sign, if it could be interpreted as such, as the shawl slipped off Torniel’s shoulder, baring the lovely skin to his sight. His eyes…shamelessly went there, absorbing it, his tongue once again making a cursory exploration of his bottom lip a moment before his eyes returned to her own orbs, as she answered his so-called educated guesswork.

She did concede she was not of the nobility. She lost her parents young and he gave a sympathetic frown to the revelation. At least it seemed to him that she was raised by a decent stranger who took her in. Gave her shelter and food and clothes. A job too, to spend her time, one at which she exceeded at judging by the fineness of the clothes she wore now. She was more from the mountain vales rather than the Great River basin of Lebennin, which he conceded was his erroneous guess. Certainly not from Pelagir which had him chuckle, aloud and spontaneously. The rivalry of Dol Amroth and Pelagir, at least among their seafaring folk, was well known.

Does that deter you? Let Abrazimir answer with an action, not a statement. Their table had four chairs, each of them occupying the ones across, with his right hand side occupied by his sheathed longsword which he propped up like it’s own participant at their meeting. To the left chair, to Torniel’s right, by the side of the bared shoulder, Abrazimir suddenly shifted into and sat. His hands went to her shawl and plucked it back up, spreading it over her shoulder again, covering it up, letting her be covered and warm, against the cold airs that surrounded this building and snaked it’s way inside every now and then with a brief draft. Was he deterred? Not. At. All.

His hand lingered on her arm, thumb caressing over the ball of her shoulder, as he peered more directly, more closely into her face. ”To your four queries, my answer is no. It draws me in, in fact. Such fine, silk webbing you weave. You cannot fault me for wanting to know more.” Abrazimir said with a smile, patting her shoulder then removing his hand. He reached across the table with his own long arm and brought his mug of ale closer to himself. Now they were seated more near. Face to face. His knee brushed to her knee beneath the table. The man was clearly hungry.

Thirsty too, as he soon sipped his drink again. ”Class, while an interesting tidbit of knowledge, is not the basis of my opinion of another. I like a woman who knows the touch of labour in her hands, even if that labour be the passing and counting of coins. You see, despite my own class, mine is not a very wealthy clan. Yours have touched things that mine could only dream of. And though mine have no doubt known labours yours have not, I do not think mine is anything to be envious of. But yes, I will concede, I am envious of your touch.” Abrazimir said with a half smirk, hoping his little double entendre would be amusing to her.

He raised his mug and drank from it again. ”What would you say is your favourite merchandise to handle?” He inquired, while peering to gaze at her hands now, as if he might gleam the sort of export she worked with. He would never have guessed how closely it resembled the labour his own hands exported. Of what work could be exported handling a sword, or a knife…

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Domanol and Unalmis Raxëlilta, at the Daisy Dairy Farm, on Pelennor Fields
with Duinion and Erynneth Raedor. In the early hours of September 4th.

She ‘hadn’t seen much point’ to screaming …

Domanol sat back where he sat, quite sure that screaming was more of an involuntary reaction than a choice. But then, she was a young girl. Maybe that made a difference. He knew better than to interrupt her anyway. Maybe this was not an account of the first dead body that Eryn had seen in her young life, or maybe she was simply trying to appear less bothered by it, for the sake of her father. As Duinion took his gaze out across the dark fields, his best friend knew that it was not necessarily a case of his friend on the lookout for something, but just as likely looking away from something else. He didn’t want to give up his expression.

When the two younger of their little somber party started speaking of ‘bloody ropes’ and ‘funny clothes’ .. the older man puzzled visibly. But Eryn had turned more pointedly toward his nephew now, and seemed to be addressing him directly, rather than the room.


Unalmis had been confused when Eryn agreed with him about the bloodied ropes, and also mentioned the costumes the girls had been dressed in, last autumn. How did she know about that ? Had Cali told her about it ? When the confession spread to finding the missing guard reports however, it all made sense. She’d read them. Both of them ..

“I wonder if Feirion is also the guy who was supposedly on the duty roster ..” he could not help but recount aloud, as the pieces began to fall into place. It was not shaping up into a very good place of course. “They said the roster proved it was 'someone else' posted at the gate that day, though of course we weren't given a chance to read it for ourselves. But if the report was copied, falsified … probably the rota was as well ..”


“I vaguely remember a Guard by the name Feirion,” Domanol pondered meanwhile, with a frown. "Though if it is the same one I am thinking of, he was older than me, back then. He might be a lieutenant by now, but I'd be amazed if he was spry enough to be rostered for a gate duty." The Ranger put thoughts to what he might recall of this possible candidate. But he hadn't heard yet what had happened at the gate last year and, moreover he had heard Eryn refer to Androllius. So that name of course threw all other details to the wayside. A curse in a tongue that none of the others present would likely have heard before (or understood) fell from the man’s lips. “Androllius, though ? Don’t tell me that louse is still Captain of the Tower Guard ?” He had certainly not gotten that impression from conversations with Thorley anyway but, given what he’d learnt about at least one other member of the current Tower Guard, it was believable that such goings on as were now being described .. would be allowed to occur, under such a leader’s example.

“Captain Androllius is retired,” Nal was sorry to correct his uncle, with no better news. “His son is a lieutenant now though. We call him 'Rip'. And he’s a real arsehat, has been since school. He’s only gotten worse since then,” the young man dropped his brow into his closest hand, as though thoughts had suddenly become much more of a burden than moments before. Contemplating on all that Trevadir had updated them about. "Do we know who the dead woman was ?"


“Tree trap,” Domanol suddenly exclaimed, in a form and context that Duinion at least would comprehend.

“Don’t get too excited about having evidence,” Unalmis rubbed his eyes and sat back up again, Hattie straightening in response, until he let a hand fall about her, to calm them both. He gave Eryn a patient if weary admission. “It's took us this long to prove to anyone that he is a cad. Even with all that we know about him, and evidence and everything, it took some rich Belf*s to get the Guard to do anything about it .. ” He paused, not even registering the dog’s expectant expression as his affection stalled. “Besides. he has already .. oh, left town." Something awful in the way of revelations dropped as Nal forced himself to give his thinking voice. "Eryn .. ?" Oh stars, no. Brown eyes could not meet her Hazel, when he asked. "'Rip' knows you have those papers doesn’t he ? That’s why no one could find you.”

“Be-caussse .. you had to hide when you saw him coming, and you couldn’t get away from there until he’d gone ?” Domanol jumped in, hastily translating the possibilities toward the most hopeful scenario, although his expression betrayed that he quite doubted it was that simple. Not if the girl had cause now to believe somebody was coming here, tonight, to hurt her father. For her to know that much detail .. there must have been a confrontation. With probably the same guy who had lied to him blatantly at the tree, and therefore the same who had terrified that young squatter in the shop apartment; a son who was no better and maybe even worse than his louse father had been, by all accounts ? A glance toward his friend gained him nothing but the mounting apprehension. “Go on ..” he urged their informant eventually, circling one hand upon it’s wrist unhappily and not quite willingly, to even let this tale continue. It was a case of preparing to take a bitter pill, rather than learn the solution to a puzzle.



*Belfs = Belfalasians. local slang

[Arnyn]

@Lantaelen

Torniel
Catch My Draft Inn, in the east of the Lossarnach region
Late December

Actions spoke louder than words. The Hand had taught her that well enough. When words failed, action worked. And if you did not want to take any chances, you needed action. Verbal skills of negotiation were one thing she had learned. But that she mastered the physical skills had been even more important to her 'guardian'.

So when Dauntless switched that chair closer, that action answered her question more profoundly than his words did. Amusing as they were. That he reached out to then fix her shawl back over her shoulder, gave her pause, but his lingering touch on her shoulder (even if it was over the shawl) set her at ease. This was no rejection. This was... something else. Something... confusing. Something she was not used to.

"I do not fault you for it," she told him, referring to both him wanting to know more about her, as well as his gesture of putting that shawl back over her shoulder. And possibly also referring to their knees touching below the table. She smirked when he said her hands had touched things his could only dream of, and when he continued along that vein, Torniel could not help but laugh quietly, as the words humoured her wildly. Her big eyes sparkled as they held a firm connection with his. If only he realized the things he was actually saying. Would he blush? Perhaps. Before turning on me and delivering me to a judge at best, an executioner at worst.

That thought sobered her a little. She watched his eyes fall to her hands, and she removed one hand from where both had once again been cradled around her tea cup. To lightly rest over his hand that was closest to her, with her palm still warmed by the tea as it touched him. "I do not like that term," she said quietly, huskily, as her eyes found his again. "Merchandise." Her upper teeth caught her bottom lip for just a moment, before she continued. "I leave the transaction of goods to others," she said, as if that part of the business did not merit her attention. Which, in truth, it did not. "The largest part of running any kind of successful business is not the actual transaction, Dauntless." Her voice lowered even more as her hand lifted from his just enough to let her fingertips caress and circle around his knuckles - so lightly it would almost tickle. "It is... people management." Her fingers slipped into his sleeve, until the fabric covered about only half of her fingers, at which point she settled her hand right there. "Introduction. Negotiation. Mediation. Persuasion. Consensus. Someone has to broker the deals before goods and money can exchange hands. Someone needs to prospect, to bring in new business. Someone needs to maintain customer relations, so when a different merchant comes along to offer something similar at a better price point, the client maintains their loyalty." She lifted a shoulder, smiling softly at him. "Those are my areas of expertise. Customer prospection and retention." Mostly, anyway. And none of these were lies. It was what the bulk of her skills were used for, and where most of her time was spent. Just... not the way he was now probably imagining.

"You are not even touching the bread you ordered," she observed quietly. "Not very hungry, Dauntless?" Her fingers in his sleeve shifted minutely.

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

|
Duinion & Erynneth Raedor
Very early morning of Sept 4th
Daisy Dairy farm

"Duty roster?" Eryn was not really sure what he meant about that, but soon, Nal provided the explanation by mentioning that it had supposedly proved that someone else was at the gate on that fateful day. She frowned, considering that. "I didn't see anything like that," She regretted to inform him, before looking to his uncle to hear his comment about this Feirion guy. She didn't really know why gate duty should require spryness, but she figured it might be something the men knew more about.

As the name Androllius came up, Duinion scowled out toward the darkness, recalling what Arnyn had said regarding him. Another thing he wanted to let Dom know about. Although, he was not expecting what came out of Nal, then. His son? A lieutenant? Duinion blinked and turned back to look at the younger ranger, although the darkness would help to hide the surprise on his face. "Rip.." He repeated, a bit stunned to hear that. Did he just hear that correctly? He hesitated, then, but before he could decide whether to speak up on that matter, Dom's comment drew his attention back to him. The tree trap.. of course. Duinion swallowed, feeling his sense of unease growing stronger with every tidbit that was revealed.

While she did not understand the secret language uttered by Domanol, Eryn could tell that it had some effect on her father. He did not look happy. Turning back to Nal, she shook her head slightly, in regards to the woman. No, she had no idea about that. But perhaps the rangers or guards would figure it out. In the meanwhile, her friend surprised her somewhat by.. dampening her mood. That was very unlike Nal. But she understood. He had dealt with these people before. She frowned slightly as he spoke of how difficult it was to prove to anyone that he was no good.

As it seemed to dawn on Nal that she had apparently encountered this 'Rip' fellow, Eryn was stalled from giving any reply as Domanol expressed some hope of a more favorable reason for why she had not been able to be found.

"I wish," Duinion muttered softly. If she had been hiding, that would have been so much better than the reality. He gave her a tiny, apologetic smile and motioned for her to continue. It was not yet time for him to take up his version of events.

"No.. that's not really how it went." She answered regretfully, then sighed. "See.. I was looking at those papers, when Hattie decided she wanted to have a look at them," She rolled her eyes and glanced down at the dog with a little shake of her head. "She snatched the whole tube, and all I had in my hands were the two identical papers. I was trying to make sense of them," She explained. "When I couldn't get her to come back, I gave up and decided to find out what else was in that hole. There was something else.." She looked at Nal. "Something very important." She had not yet told this to her father, even. She looked at him, then at Nal. "When I pulled it out, I couldn't believe it. Nal... it was Ryn's dagger." She said softly. "The other one.. not the one the guards have in evidence." She drew a breath, then continued before anyone could express their surprise or shock or disbelief or whatever. "Before I could even think about what to do.. a man spoke up behind me.." She looked down. "I guess, I'd been so absorbed in my discovery, I didn't hear him come down the steps," She sighed. "And he was not happy to see I'd found his.. stash, or whatever it was." She looked up again, glancing around at them each before settling her gaze on Nal.

"He knew who I was.. and that I was your friend," She told him quietly, then looked at her father. "And that you were my father." She drew a slightly shaky breath, returning her gaze to Nal. "I think he must be that.. Rip person you mentioned, because he really seemed to dislike you, Nal. He kept.. saying things about you, and saying your name in a.. rude manner." She frowned. "Like, pronouncing it in an insulting sort of way. It made me very upset, but that only made him laugh."

From there, hoping to get through her tale without too many more interruptions, Eryn described how the man had demanded that she give him the dagger, how she had in turn demanded to know how the dagger got there, and whether he had killed the woman in the cellar, and his response. She told how he had tried to intimidate her, and though her voice betrayed a little of her emotion, she continually reminded herself mentally that it was all over, and that she was sitting here with Nal and her dad, and Dom. That she was safe.

"When I mentioned that I had several ranger friends who would come looking for me," She said softly, leaning a little closer to Nal, "he laughed. And he asked if I meant rangers like Ryndir." She frowned, troubled by that recollection. "And then.. in this.. mocking sort of tone, he reminded me that Ryn was dead." She spoke softer still, frowning. "And he mentioned that Ryn had been stabbed by his own blade." She looked up at Duinion. "How many people would know that?" She asked quietly, suspecting the number would be very small.

Duinion looked... quite stunned, even from what she could see of him in the dim light. "No one." He answered, in a whisper. "No one, except his killer." He amended, drawing a very slow, steady breath. He could understand now why Eryn had been so certain that this man had been Ryn's murderer. Even Duinion, who had found Ryn dying in the woods that day, had not known whose blade had slain the young man. He had always assumed his murderer had slain him with whatever weapon they had carried, and that they had taken his daggers away once he was dead. Now.. to learn that his killer had taken his weapons and killed him with them? It was a lot to take in. He slowly turned his gaze toward Nal, realizing that this must be difficult news for him to hear, also.

Next, he glanced toward Dom as it occurred to him that his prodigal 'brother' would likely not be aware of the significance of this discovery. "A very close friend," He muttered softly, for his benefit, and with a slight nod toward Nal, but also Eryn, to indicate whose friend he meant. "And my trainee, some years ago." He concluded, with mild difficulty getting the words out. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, then leaned his back against the frame of the barn window, sighing sorrowfully. It wasn't proof, at least nothing that would hold up in court, he was sure. But now.. at last, some things were beginning to fall into place a little more. He still had several things he needed to tell.. both to Nal and to Dom, but he wanted to wait and let Eryn conclude her tale, first.

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Domanol and Unalmis Raxëlilta, at the Daisy Dairy Farm, on Pelennor Fields
with Duinion and Erynneth Raedor. In the early hours of September 4th.

When Eryn commenced with the telling of how these unfortunate events had actually played out, Hattie soon perked up, as the young woman referenced her by name. As the dog’s antics were detailed then, Nal rolled his closed hand around the crown of her dark head, and muttered “Little thief”. Though there was no real chastisement offered and the hound turned to licking his hand without remorse. It certainly wasn’t the first time that she had run off with interesting ‘treasures’. Unalmis managed to keep from interrupting as the tale recommenced, but he froze when mention was made of Ryn’s missing dagger. For the description given of the strange man could only be ‘Rip’ and the Ranger nodded as Eryn came to that conclusion as well. “I think you’re right,” he managed.


Domanol had locked his gaze with Duinion as the Tirdinen’s daughter mentioned how her antagonist had known who she was, known that she was Nal’s friend, and that Dui was her father … Never had he been more devastated that their trap in the tree had backfired. If he had simply taken the little smatchett when first he had begun to suspect him, the fiend would not have been able to go on to commit so much damage as it sounded that he had. It was like the curse of Pharak all over again ! Why was it that people kept telling him to show mercy and be sure, all of the time ? This was exactly what happened, whenever he listened to that sort of rot. Instinct meant something.

As Eryn took them then from one revelation to the next, Unalmis didn’t notice that Hattie had considered his hand thoroughly washed by now, and settled down contentedly with her head on her front paws. He wanted to tell the forlorn young woman that ‘Rip’ might have simply been lying to her, about Ryn being killed by his own daggers. It would be entirely like the smarming viper to say something like that, simply to hurt the girl. For surely the bully had worked out that she had known Ryndir. And the Ranger had lost count of the times when ’Rip’ had lied to him and his friends, just for his own twisted amusement.

The stopper was, that ‘Rip’ was just as likely then, he knew, to have wanted to upset Ryn, when he had killed him. The doubt over who had committed the deed had faded with each person who reported that it was .. their long time foe. Even as he dealt out the death blow. To have managed it with his victim’s own weapons ? Those daggers had been entrusted to the murdered Ranger, to commemorate his brothers, who had forged one each. They would have wanted their hard work, their legacy, to protect their younger sibling, not .. end him. So the thought of that twist being the murderer's triumph .. in Ryndir's final moments .. ? Closing his eyes did not stop the scene which his imagination had concocted from the evidence. The last thing his friend had heard, the last thing his friend had known ?


“Ryn was my brother,” was all that he could manage to actually say then, building on what Duinion had already, as he slowly opened his eyes again. The word ‘was’ never got any easier to use in relation to his lost friend. Of course his uncle had never met or maybe even heard of Ryndir before now. Nal had only met the twins himself on his first day of school, and his uncle had already left home by then.

Domanol managed to nod an understanding, although there seemed to be an awful lot that he was missing here. It had been only a matter of days since he re-entered his family's life ... and this was already come of it. It was taking most of his will power to not demand somebody explained this whole gate thing to him right now. But a greater part of him was unwilling to hear what more had been endured. And the notion of 'calling it even and moving on' now sounded suddenly ridiculous in retrospect. But in truth that was the least of the things bothering him. The first and foremost was that somebody he cared about had been hurt, probably because of something he had done, or not done. Again. If he’d trusted Thorley instead of treading careful for the sake of not compromising his small stowaway, he might have gotten more information about this fake young man who had been apparently troubling them all. Before this latest calamity had been allowed to happen.

The second thing that was bothering him was when Duinion had told Eryn to tell her part … first. That certainly implied that even all of this was not the all of it. And that there would come yet more to hurl upon their mental bonfire. And the third thing was that when the children joined them, he had definitely overheard the father and daughter debate about whether a ‘he’ would try something tonight. Eryn had admitted that this ‘Rip knew who her father was, and clearly he was aware that she had taken something of his which she claimed to still be in possession of. So had the corrupt guard threatened to hurt her father, or others of her family if she did not give back what Hattie might have run away with ? Was that why they were here ? Because even despite the risk, Duinion was maybe standing himself out as bait in another trap then, for revenge ? As much as that would explain all he’d registered thus far, it did not console Domanol any at all. Not least because of how well the last effort to ambush this villain had gone. Not at all well.


Unalmis had only one question suffocating all other thoughts in his head. Why had this been kept such a secret ? If he had known they might be coming out here to hunt down or capture the missing guard on the run, he would certainly have made sure to have brought Eryn’s archery gear down with them. Or more weapons of his own. But if they were going to hear now, and be prepared at this late stage, before their enemy maybe showed up .. it would not do to interrupt the briefing. Though he wished it would be over soon, for more than one reason.

[Rillewen]

@Ercassie

|
Duinion & Erynneth Raedor
Very early morning of Sept 4th
Daisy Dairy farm

“Ryn was my brother,”

The words, quiet though they were, spoke volumes. Duinion gave a tiny nod. Out of anyone, he and Dom ought to understand that sentiment best. He looked toward his own brother-by-choice, recalling the pain he had endured when the news came that he had been slain. Even though he'd never wanted to believe it, the fact that Dom never returned.. had said enough. Until suddenly, he did return.

But that was not the case with this other lost brother. They'd recovered a body. Duinion had, himself, seen the boy die. It was not a memory he wanted to revisit, but sometimes such things were necessary. He swallowed and looked out at the sea of grass, listening to the soft rustle that the breeze stirred among it. During a brief pause that followed, silence reigned over their small group, allowing each to ponder in their own thoughts for that time.

Eryn shifted, sensing that her news had brought about this quiet solemnity with the menfolk. She waited a little while, unsure whether to continue or let the silence stretch on. The fact that Nal had not spoken anything, except for what he said about Ryn, made her wonder if he was uncomfortable. Well, of course he was, she corrected herself mentally. It was a very uncomfortable topic, and the news was.. very unpleasant. She slowly reached out to scratch around Hattie's ears, thinking about how to proceed. "This.. Rip," Eryn spoke up at last, softly. "He was really scary. But, I tried to act like he didn't scare me." She managed a tiny smile. "Like Ryn would've done," She added quietly. "Oh.. and Hattie.. she was a real hero." She informed Nal proudly.

From there, she told them about the man's threats and how he'd tried to grab her, how she had kicked him in a place he really didn't enjoy... and how, after getting away from him, she had been at a loss for what to do upon discovering that Buttercup was not where she left her. How she had hidden in the burned-out shell of a house, how he'd caught her again, and then how she'd ended up cutting his arm with Ryn's dagger.

"And then," She paused, looking at the others with wide eyes, "he got really mad about that, and.. he managed to get the dagger away from me," She added regretfully, but continued, "and he was going to hit me.. or.. I don't know, maybe he would've stabbed me, I couldn't tell, but.. Hattie showed up just then." She smiled. "She came flying out of nowhere it seemed, leaped off into the air from some chunk of stone or something, and clamped onto his arm," She held her own respective arm out and used the other as 'jaws' to demonstrate somewhat, before lowering both. "I couldn't believe it. Nal, you should've seen her!" Eryn told him, wide-eyed with a bit of excitement at retelling the scene. "I've never seen her so vicious. She wouldn't let go, either, and kept shaking her head, you know, like she does when she's got a rat? Yeah, she tore his arm up really good." She added with a smile, and she couldn't help sounding rather pleased about it. "His sleeve was all ripped up, blood dripping down.. he could hardly even use it after she got done with him. I told him I hoped it got infected and had to be cut off or something." She glanced toward her dad with a slightly sheepishly glance and hoped none of them would think her a poor healer for feeling that way.

Duinion couldn't help a rather amused smile at that, although he was inwardly seething at the thought of the man even intending to lay a hand on his daughter, whether it had been to hit her with his hand, or stab her with a dagger. "Yes, I found the bloodied shirt sleeve, in the woods near the house." He mentioned. "We sort of.. gathered that something like that had happened. Good girl, Hattie." He smiled and reached across to give the canine hero some attention as well.

[Ercassie]

@Rillewen

Domanol and Unalmis Raxëlilta, at the Daisy Dairy Farm, on Pelennor Fields
with Duinion and Erynneth Raedor. In the early hours of September 4th.

Somehow the bad just kept on coming, though Domanol could not help but cough out laughter when Eryn reported how she had kicked ‘Rip’, implying where. Unalmis found a cause to cease tearing up small pieces of straw in his hand, and summoned all his focus instead unto Hattie, who was getting attention and fuss from all sides now that her heroics were explained. The dog was perhaps the only one there having a good time, surrounded by people she loved. At least if she were not alert right now though, to someone she had already attacked once, and would certainly know by scent, then they could rest easy a while longer in the knowledge that the murderer was not presently at hand. The hound was not a one to keep such knowledge to herself, if she became aware of it.

“She loves you,” he acknowledged with a small smile, as his friend marvelled over what she’d seen the hound accomplish. “If she saw that .. ” he paused though, as thoughts of what the dog would have done, if she’d seen someone hurting Eryn. “Did he hurt you ?” he began to lay eyes with more concern over the young woman suddenly. They'd not kept her long at the Houses of Healing but her account had told of a lot of pushing about and shoving her around; of a grown, trained Guard controlling the young girl .. or trying to .. Clearly the idiot had not known his victim this time as well as he’d thought he had !


“Who ended up with the dagger then ?” Domanol wanted to know, and he frowned as the amusement and heartened expressions began to fall once more, at the thought. The elder man was already beginning to wonder what kind of an enemy they might come across this night, if this ‘Rip was truly stupid enough to come back to the farm. Injured … apparently. Informed .. certainly. Desperate .. probably. Dangerous … obviously. But was he armed ? And how ?

The squatter, Strawberry, had been scared of this man. The same Strawberry who had proven she was not afraid or unable to defend herself against people far bigger and stronger than she. He’d also outsmarted their trap already. But Eryn had managed to come away from the awful encounter, complete with the falsified reports as evidence. The dog attack might account for her sudden advantage of course. But still she had not been found that night. Not until much later on the following day in fact. The struggle they had just been informed of, could not be the end of it.


Unalmis had taken his glance down to where the larger animals were at rest. Which reminded him of something Eryn had said, back up at the Sixth Circle Stables. Buttercup had ‘been through a lot today’ and ‘must be awfully tired’. But that ‘today’ would have been the day after this encounter with ‘Rip at the old farmhouse ...

“I hope that horse of yours gave him a good kick as well ..” he smiled wanly, choosing to wait rather than plague with any more questions at this point.